Idol
by Suk-fong
Summary: Or:The rise of how Hiroku Shinji became everyone's favourite singer and Hisana found true love in a box of soap. Collab with The Milliner's Rook.
1. Audition

The Agency is consider one of the best. It's also considered one of the most elite. Not anyone can get in. Kurosaki Isshin, who long surpassed idol status, to become an icon. He was the trailblazer, the pioneer of the Agency, and brought the music business to it's feet.

Now a days, Japan's top three stars are from this Agency, and they consistently destroy their opponents, despite the three's personality problems.

There is Kuchiki Byakuya, the suave, charming idol whose deep voice, and addicting good looks have made him a hit with women of all ages. His talent and cut throat business skills have made him one of the richest men in Japan. He makes little to no attempt to hide his indifference and cold attitude though, making many who collaborate with him call him a cold genius. Too close to perfection to not idolize, but too far from human to socialize with.

Kenpachi, a giant of a man has conquered the rap games, selling millions of albums. His gruff demeanour, and constant dislike for any sort of order has labelled him an anarchist. He is more often than not starting a brawl with a fan, an enemy, or an innocent bystander just for the hell of it. But yet, he constantly tops the charts with his slick lyrics and beats that he mixes and produces himself show the man's dedication.

And lastly, but not least is the pint size rocker Saragaki Hiyori. Her childish appearances on the covers of her albums, and her innocent look sell her albums to parents, however the angst, sex and drugs oozed lyrics make her a hit. She is the goddess of rock, a force to be reckoned with, and never lets anyone forget it. Her anger has gotten the best of her, and no one is free from her wrath. Her sharp tongue and acid dripped words have gotten her black listed from radios, only to play her songs again due to boycotting of the station.

They are the top three stars of Japan's music scene. They are the present and the future of The Agency.

They sell records which allow them to do anything they want in The Agency's eyes.

They can sing. It's obvious.

Can you?

* * *

><p>Opaque nails half torn drum on the door handle as the passenger in the car stares impatiently at the traffic jam clogging the freeway.<p>

She glances at the clock and watches the digital numbers flip again.

Fuck this. She's already ten minutes late.

She's getting angry. She flips on the radio to try and distract and winces almost immediately. She hears her voice, distorted by the radio air waves, and echoing in the empty car sing her newest single

'_You say you want to be with just the girl you lo-oh-oh-ve_

_Well whadaya know I'm looking for some f-oh-oh-un_

_I'm gonna push your buttons, make you come undo-oh-oh-ne'_

She hates the way she sounds in any recorded way. She is best live, not that she's not fucking amazing any other time. It's just she's fucking the best when she's performing live.

And if there's anything Saraguki Hiyori knows, it's that she's the fucking shit.

Angry now, she slams the radio shut.

She has anger issues, something she knows quite well, and in fact she takes out on anyone and everyone including her fans. It's why she's not allowed to drive.

The Agency was worried when she first almost punched a paparazzi in the face, that her anger issues would turn her fans away and make her an outcast, but in fact it gained her fans.

There's something about a pint size rocker, with baby doll looks and the voice of a fallen angel that can decapitate a grown man that's alluring.

And alluring is what she lives for.

Fuck this.

Traffic hasn't moved an inch. She'll walk to the fucking Agency.

* * *

><p>"Once upon a time there was an Idol, who was cold and mean and he wore the most amazing clothes-" He starts, revealing his flare for dramatics, ignoring the disgust and impatience on the faces of his protégés, as he continues on with his story.<p>

"That's debateable." The blonde rocker says, her feet up on the desk.

He ignores her. Masaki's designs are amazing.

"And he was the best, most famous idol. He ruled the charts for fifteen years, but then he decided to let go of the spot light, and pass the torch on to three stars in the making, who have become Japan's top idols, and stars. You all have owned the charts for over five years, and it's now time for you to help this Agency choose those who will replace you when you're ready to leave after the training you went through."

There's a snort. Kenpachi never showed up to training, Hiyori sent the trainers to the hospital, only Byakuya went to all training and excelled at it all.

"So," he finishes with a flourish, because Hiyori is about to chuck the chair she's sitting on at his head. "You will all be mentors for the contest."

He leaves the room before they can protest.

* * *

><p>The floorboards in the dingy club are vibrating. The bass is louder than what could ever be considered possible. There is a musky, damp odor that overpowers the smell of coke, weed and cheep beer. The place is filled, there is no place for personal space, with chests bumping backs, as people jump up and down to the music.<p>

They are not people who would beauty contests, some are ugly, some are ordinary. None of the performers save one have the idol looks that are sweeping the nation. He loves it.

Idols, with their make up, and chorography are only puppets; they don't feel the music, sing their own songs. No, they are the product of auto tune and mass-marketing. These people, are real. The talent raw.

He is judged by his talent, his lineage he has kept completely secret. He is more upset that his looks, with his bright orange hair and long, lanky body. He knows that he could be an idol. Hell he has been scouted by agencies since he turn thirteen.

But no, no fancy carbon copy idol will he be.

He is a musician, a true one. The stage is his world and the microphone his lover.

He closes his eyes as he hears the start of the beat his best friend spins.

He starts to rap.

* * *

><p>It is not something any of them want. However they would be stupid to refuse. Hell two of them have refused and that has just gotten them stuck with writing a whole album.<p>

It's already been advertised in all of the social media and channels in all of Japan, that Kuchiki Byakuya , Saragukia Hiyori, and Kenpachi are teaming up to release a mini album, which will also feature a collaboration with the one who wins the contest.

They need to come up with a theme, some underlying message that the three of them can use. The problem is the three of them don't have any similar song themes. He sings of how he will never find a woman who will love him completely, she sings of how men are nothing but toys, and the other sings about how love is something no one needs. There will be no harmony in any songs they write, only cacophony.

"Fuck this." She spits, arms crossed and glaring at both the men. "I ain't fucking doing this."

They all know she will, but she will become the most difficult person to work with.

"Shut up." Kenpachi says. She glowers at him and opens her mouth to yell at him, but before she gets a chance to their president, a former idol now icon to Japan's mass population.

"Why aren't pens on paper and lyrics being made?" Isshin asks. He dodges the clutch tossed at his head.

"I ain't doin' this." She spits.

She is ignored.

"You all have to perform the newest single in a week." He tells them, "At the press release for the contest, you have to perform your new single."

"That's a week from now." He says, there is no time to prepare at all.

"Exactly." Isshin says, leaving the room with a smirk. "The musicians need the music by Tuesday."

Hiyori's sandal hits the closed door.

* * *

><p>The Agency, the one, the only—the fucking dream that is no longer exists in gutters or pipes. Just in late broken conversation, worn down converses and a grip that sends hearts beating and arms bruising; another day in which Hisana is somehow getting herself involved with it.<p>

"The Agency—" Shinji gasps, running because they are doomed and he is the star. He's the shooting star that will sweep everyone into a new galaxy because his smile is a whole new type of Milky Way.

"The first rule of the Agency," Hisana breathes barely, nearly tripping over herself, willing her best friend to _shut up_ because she does not want to be stared at, and is that rain? It is, isn't it? A tiny droplet. "Is that we do not talk about the Agency." Shinji's hand tightens, not nearly as perceptively as the ache in her lungs. How many times has she nearly told him that she can't breathe properly when he's so close to her? "The second rule of the Agency—"

"Is that we _do not_ talk about the Agency. Yeah, I know, Hisana-chan." Shinji rolls his eyes and Hisana's face heats up, temporarily warmer than his spindly fingers that encase her arm. He turns a corner, and there it is—that building of music legends and dance stars and lyrical genius, tall and beautiful. And completely uninteresting, in Hisana's eyes. But the second Shinji spouts his aspirations is the moment the industry becomes interesting. "Sheesh, you use that quote for everything."

"That's because it applies to everything." Hisana says, imitating her younger sister's _pizzazz_ without the obligatory you're-an-idiot-but-_I-love-you_-why-don't-you-_know-this?_ shoulder quirk. If she did, she would lose her balance. Rukia does it many times when she can't watch _Hamtaro_. "How do you not know that?"

Shinji doesn't reply, striding into the gates of heaven.

Hisana is tempted to just ditch him. Storm off and have a hissy fit. She didn't ask for this, didn't want a friend who craves to be the next idol. Except that's Shinji personifies all of that, hissy fits and clever words and diva fits with a lovable smile that makes Hisana dig her own grave because she can't quite muster up the word no. Can't muster up the willpower to kiss the hell out of him either, if she's being honest.

She trudges after him, not exactly pleased with the situation she's in. The company she doesn't mind, but only when she doesn't forget how to think _properly._

Then Shinji makes the mistake of beaming idiotically at her, and Hisana is glad that it's going to rain. She can use her soggy converses as a weapon on his stupidly handsome face.

"Why are you bringing me, anyway?" She asks eventually. That's what Hisana doesn't get.

"Because." Shinji drawls and Hisana can't help but notice that he sounds slightly huskier than normal, eyes drawn to his mouth momentarily before blinking and looking up. It must be the beginning of a rainstorm, if it's come to this. "Darling, you're my good luck charm."

"I'm not your darling." Hisana establishes firmly, thinking back to that time Rukia said that she has her moments of being like a silly, rational, grumpy bear and shakes the thought away. This is not one of those times. Darling implies sweethearts, and being an actual couple. They are not an actual couple. Shinji wraps his arm around her, pulling her in close; enough that his grin is pressed to her ear and it tickles her hair and for a second, Hisana thinks that he's about to murmur that she looks cute blushing.

"But you are my good luck charm." Shinji reaffirms happily.

"Didn't stop us from missing the train." Hisana sighs and quietly lets herself enjoy the moment while it lasts.

It's not enough to deflate Shinji's upbeat attitude. "Well then." He corrects his statement. "You're my good luck charm in all areas except trains."

* * *

><p>"So, we're like his little frogs and squirrels?" Orihime grins, eyes wide with the idea. She poses for the camera; the center stage starlet of trio ElHiMo. "We're Kuchiki-san's secret garden?"<p>

"Maybe." Nel Tu Odelschwanck murmurs, hand resting on her shoulder. Her light hair flows down one side of her shoulder, neatly "I think we're the flowers instead of the animals though."

"Shh," Urahara says, signalling his apprentice Jinta to change the lights, just a tad so that the trio become luminous in the spotlight. "Tell me, as the latest addition to the cuckoos nest, how are you feeling?"

"That Byakuya-sama should become a horticulturist." Rangiku grins, and blinks just as the light blinds her, instead of keeping her eyes wide open with a mischievous glint.

"Now there's an idea." Yoruichi agrees and snaps her fingers. "Ururu!"

Ururu blinks.

"Bya-bo photo shoot in a garden centre! Write it down."

Ururu does so.

"You abuse your power too much." Urahara grins, and orders his usual: Caffeine Of Death And Dooms. Somehow, only Tessai knows how to make it pristine perfect and only Jinta can deliver it without spilling a drop. Allegedly. "We'll have the fans lusting over beautiful gardens yet."

"And it's all thanks to ElHiMo." Yoruichi crosses her arms and thinks how the next angle should be, how the contestant should carry themselves, or what props they should use. "We'll be sure to let him know."

All three clap their hands, and it is glorious.

"Hurrah!"

Being the leading paparazzi, both Urahara and Yoruichi are well are that it would only inflame the frozen Kuchiki's ire. And with relish, both know to see that look in his eye, is a wonderful product to sell.

"Hurrah!" They cheer, and think about the future humiliation that the celebrity will no doubt imagine he has to endure to prevent himself from even giving the barest hint of a smile.

* * *

><p>The floors are made of marble and the ceiling of gold. It's very clean; Hisana can't help but be awed at the cleanliness of it all. On the wall is draped countless photos of the beautiful people that Rukia so often adores, and Shinji audibly hyperventilates within the confinement of his bed and fluffy bunny slippers.<p>

"You should have been here ten minutes ago." The receptionist says disapprovingly, mouth pursed up into a disappointed frown and before Hisana can even quote her motto, Shinji awkwardly coughs and mumbles something that only _just_ passes as an apology.

"Traffic." Shinji says loudly and flippantly.

Hisana looks down and considers using her shoes as a potential weapon.

"That's no excuse." The receptionist snidely says, and Hisana thinks that maybe she should use the shoes on _her_ instead.

"We're here now." Hisana says, speaking evenly and overriding the beginnings of an argument. "That's what matters."

"Indeed!" A voice boomed throughout the room, before the person to match appeared. Kurosaki Isshin, Shinji squeaks in a high pitched voice and Hisana's mouth forms an 'oh'. Is she meant to be impressed? She knows about Shinji's various man-crushes, but honestly, Hisana isn't that wowed.

"Shinji, you're being a spaz." Hisana mumbles out of the corner of her mouth. Someone's got be concerned about him.

"It seems that the break was indeed useful." Hands on his hips, sequined sleeves cut just above the wrist, 'Kurosaki Isshin' guffaws and his entire being shakes with grandeur. Actually, he laughs like Santa Claus, the 'ho ho ho's italicized, inflated and painted red in the air, with just a smidgen of snow. "So you've arrived, Hirako Shinji."

"You know my name!" Excitably, Shinji flails and he grins likes the unflappably beautiful man he is.

He grins mysteriously. "To be fashionably late is a star's greatest risk. Luckily, I sense a good deal of style within." He rubs his chin with his thumb in exaggeration, and Hisana is a little concerned with the eccentricity of it all, and curiously glances back to watch Shinji who looks like he's seeing the sun shine in a corset of gaudiness and finding it sexy. "And talent. I was impressed with your audition tape."

The sound Shinji makes next is not human.

"Thank you." Hisana translates, throat feeling tight and very much embarrassed. "He worked really hard and we appreciate that you accepted him into… this place."

"And you are?" Cartoonishly, the grey-haired man blinks, as if he's stopped to notice the person who shouldn't be here at all.

"My good luck charm." Shinji supplies, and Hisana feels her cheeks heat up.

"I approve!" Isshin appraises with thumbs up before he bows before them and renders the both of them speechless. "Now, if you don't mind, you have a photo shoot to get to."

"Hisana-chan's with me." His slender fingers intertwine with hers, and how has Shinji never noticed that together they are perfect? Her blush intensifies under the heat of his gaze and the weight of his words. People always get the wrong idea, the one that will happen in the future but never in the present.

"Of course." The man says, and even _he _knows after just a second, a knowing look in his eyes after he tilts his head to the side and regards the both of them with fresh eyes. Hisana can tell. "Good luck charms should never be overlooked. Right this way."

"Thank you Three Evil Monkeys."

"That's Monkeys Of Evil Triangles." The brunet with the teacup primly corrects, sipping a plastic teacup with presumably nothing there.

"Yes, Monkeys of Evil Triangles, you've been great. So photogenic!" A blonde man in a striped hat says, as he claps and causes everyone to join in, except for Shinji and his best friend Hisana. "You can put down the tea now."

With a slight shuffle, the Three Evil Monkeys walk away, one of them gazing in their direction, outstretching the jaw line of a crocodile's grin. Clearly, they are afraid of the competition they have yet to meet. But Shinji is unafraid.

He is the star.

The next generation of unleashed awesomeness and untapped potential.

"Now you, _you_ are photogenic!" The blonde man – and Shinji is an idiot for not figuring it out who this person is earlier as he is motioned to stand at the blue screen, where the lights burn the pupils until they are nothing more than dynamite. The one, the only, the best friend of the fantastic pioneer, the father of the Agency, Kurosaki Isshin, who picked him out from the cream of the crop in a fondue full of starlets, who is partners with the alluring Shihouin Yoruichi. It's none other Urahara Kisuke, who diverges snappy articles with audacious punch lines and nearly suicidal predictions, and he's never made an error yet. Especially in his intuition of romance, and the surreptitious battles of a certain icy prince and a fiery princess; legends who are simply teasing the public with their almost acceptance of admitting it to the public about how they are in love.

And the man of legend has just called him photogenic and meant it. Shinji would swoon, and with one photograph, Urahara would make him a hero. Sprawled across the floor like a sex-god just waiting for the roses to fall across his clothes.

Instead, Shinji smirks and lets the camera love him.

He can dance.

He can sing.

He can write.

His secret weapon is his cute good luck charm, Hisana-chan, and with her, he will be unstoppable. He smiles in her direction, and their telepathic communication is perfectly aligned. She is smiling back, with that look in her eyes.

The camera flashes and Shinji's first step into stardom is elevated by the killer grin and flashing lights.

He is ready.

* * *

><p>By: The Milliner's Rook and Suk-fong<p> 


	2. Record

The music is happy, and she counts the beats-_one, two, three, four_-start!

Twirl, kick, roll your hips, turn sideways and pose while the other trainee who has her solo in this current fake track, spin, now floor work-don't trip!- and now it's her time to shine.

She tries to walk sexily to the center of the stage, like how Hiyori-sama walks, but in the reflection of the mirror she sees a small girl failing to be sexy. She tries to focus, so she stands proudly with her feet apart, before swinging a hip and turning to the side to pop her chest out as she sings the lyrics to MitSuki's old song 'Crocodile.'

"_Rainbows hold the sky in arcs_

_I'll climb to the middle_

_And with some skittles_

_I shall become the princess in the cloud blue sky"_

She moves back in time to get back into the choreography. She spins and turns smiles and kick-ball-changes her way through the rest of the routine, feeling herself sweating.

Finally, after three more run-throughs of the routine they finish for the day.

Rukia bids goodbye to her fellow trainees, and after they leave she turns the music on to face the mirror again.

Over and over she goes through the routine. Until she can call her dancing perfect, and rid herself of the flat notes. She is exhausted, but she keeps on pushing.

She wants to debut as part of an idol group, and soon. This has been her dream for years, and finally, finally when she was thirteen she convinced her parents to let her audition for TMRSF, a very good talent agency. She got in and has been training for five years.

Ever since Shinji-kun told Oneesan about his dream to be the best idol, to become a star, then an icon and the most famous person in all of Japan, she has seen stars. She wants to be one of those girls on the glossy fashion magazines. She wants to sing and dance and entertain audiences of millions. Like Hiyori-sama, but not really.

Hiyori-sama is the queen and the most famous female idol in all of Japan. She has been the queen for years, with no sign of stopping. But Hiyori-sama is a solo act; Rukia can't help but think that would be so lonely. There is no one to share the joy and the audience love.

It's quarter past eleven when she finally leaves the studio. The streetlights are on, and Rukia looks for Oneesan or Shinji-kun. They are always there to walk her home, but then she remembers Shinji-kun has been accepted into The Agency. He has training with Kuchiki Byakuya, Kenpachi and Hiyori-sama. Oneesan is probably with him as well.

Rukia hopes that Oneesan tells Shinji-kun how madly she has been in love with him since they were ten soon. So when Shinji-kun releases his album in the liner notes he can thank his lovely girlfriend and best friend.

Rukia grins widely and tightens the strap of her Chappi the Rabbit backpack and skips down the sidewalk.

* * *

><p>It's almost three in the morning when he gets in. Ichigo is surprised to see his father sitting at the kitchen table, dressed for once not in an outlandish stage costume.<p>

"Hey." He says, tossing his keys on the table and taking off his shoes.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" His father asked.

His lab is canceled tomorrow, and he is planning to hang out with Tatsuki to write some more rhymes-but oh Tatsuki got scouted by some agency and has to do training.

"Nothing." He says finally, after a lengthy period of trying to find something and failing to do so.

"Then why don't you stop by The Agency at one we can have lunch?" His father asks.

He hates the Agency, the tall building of steel and glass. It gives off a failing of superiority and exclusiveness. Only the very best get a chance to get past the first floor.

He and his sisters grew up in the Agency. He knows every nook and cranny of the building and hates it.

The first floor is reception, where nothing happens but fancy posters and reception workers. The second floor is for those who audition, the third and fourth floors are for those who are training. Maybe two people get past those floors to reach the fifth floor, that's the dance studio floor. So many people dance there, going over routines. The sixth floor is the recording studios for everyone, while the seventh is the talent's manager's offices. The seventh floor is where photo shoots happen, and hair and makeup exists and that is generally where everyone else stops. Only the select few, the top three and their managers get to the next level. The eighth floor is their dance studio, where all their props and the top notch choreographers are found; it's also where their wardrobe, makeup and hair are done. The ninth floor is their individual recording studios, and their manager's offices. The tenth floor is where his father's office is, as well as Urahara's, and Yoruichi's offices are.

"Yeah sure."

* * *

><p>Knock-knock-knock.<p>

"Hisana."

Knock-knock-knock.

"Hisana."

Knock-knock-knock.

"Hisa—"

Rukia opens the door, addled with sleep and half smiling and half glaring with the spoon of breakfast that will not shove cereal in his throat if he grins his charming smile that makes _all_ his friends swoon.

"Rukia-chan!"

It's half-seven in the morning, there should be smiles all around. Rukia glares at him, but lowers the spoon into her stripy pink and white bowl, then glances behind her, shielding her sister from view. "Don't. She's sleeping."

"Yes but—"

"She's _dying,_ Shinji-kun." Rukia, always the dramatic, insists. "Killing herself over—over Sasuke and Takeshi's Castle—"

"They're good television shows that build up character! Actual human ninjas through intense ninja courses of gravitas and silliness! I could be a kunoichi!" Hisana insists, and there's his best friend, still completely unprepared for the sunshine of today's morning.

Shinji takes this moment to look pointedly at Rukia. What was all this implication of her being asleep and too much noise would disrupt her? Rukia has the modesty to look mischievous and not guilty at all, the sly thing.

Shinji's gaze flicks back to his best friend.

Does she not realize what time it is?

It's morphing time!

"But—you promised!" Shinji exclaims, still baffled at why she'd not be as excited as he is. This is the moment where they become gods, the saviors of the world, and not Beetleborgs. "You're my good luck charm!"

Hisana sighs, face reddening. "You mean it's not a one time thing?"

He hates that she visibly deflates, after sounding so hopeful. Shinji's always hated Hisana being sad. So, in true Shinji-like fashion, he shall cheer her up.

"Of course not! It's a life time thing." And her easy smile should be appearing any second now.

At least Rukia is happier, cottoning on quickly to his idea. "You mean like a marriage?"

"Rukia!" Hisana shrieks.

"Exactly like a marriage." Shinji nods seriously. It is exactly like a marriage except in the way it is not. He finds no fault in this analogy because there is no fault in the analogy; a skill in which only gods only achieve through casting the die.

"So… does this mean that you're staying for breakfast?" Rukia asks, and glances at her big sister who is focusing determinedly at the screen of fans and fantastic designs. "And tell me how what's the next chapter in Hirako Shinji, Superstar?"

"Well—"

"Nagano Makoto!" Hisana swoons, as the long-admired fisherman appears on screen. "Sit and bask in his incredibleness."

"I can't resist that." Shinji laughs and Rukia welcomes him inside. Hisana squidges up next to him, the very opposite of making room, and her breath is warm against his neck once the incredible fisher man wins yet another stage with his undeniable talent.

It must be the power of his incredible pancakes that makes them taste extra delicious and Hisana agree to be his mascot for the rest of her life, which is stated neatly in both fine print and invisible ink and Hisana makes her name extra curly like chocolate sauce spreading into a smiley face.

* * *

><p>It's a bore. Meetings like this, where they have to see new wannabes.<p>

He plays with his lighter, flicking it on and off, making Byakuya glare. He won't get any soot on his precious scarf.

They watch from a monitor waiting for their cue.

The group of wannabes file in for the initial meet and greet. There is a trio of women with various hair colours and huge tits.

There are other people, but fuck those with the tits are gonna get his attention.

Urahara starts talking, introducing everyone to themselves. When they enter they don't need to introduce themselves. Everyone there has seen them, loved them, masturbated to them, wanted to be them.

That's why they're all here right? To try to become them.

Good luck.

* * *

><p>"We," Toushirou says with great deliberation, "are sprogs."<p>

"Oh really?" Karin rolls her eyes and pushes him forward. "Is that your word for the day?"

"I was being metaphorical." Attempting to cling on to his dignity, Toushirou huffs with his arms across his chest. He sees no reason why he should put up with his friend's mockery.

"Then we are not _sprogs_?" Karin asks, needling him because she can't help but enjoy the flush of red that is quickly apparent. She has a stupid smile on her stupid face.

"No. I changed my mind." Toushirou corrects himself, considering the situation he has put himself in. "We are the future."

"In the same way my old man is the past?" Karin opens another door, and Toushirou wonders where she's taking him. They practice in secret here, sometimes, when they aren't in the garden, and Karin finds her confident to assure that nobody will disturb her.

Kurosaki Isshin.

The man who has his respect despite being the oddball of an eccentric family. He paved his way through history—the fantastic music industry—using nothing more than a cannon of flair and pointy elbows—very important fact to notice, Isshin has often proclaimed, his voice booming from the top of the building to be heard at the very bottom. That's how me and Kisuke-kun became best friends! And the journalist had snuck through the window and proudly showed his still bruised face, because apparently hide and seek and attack is the thing to do when they are forty-fifty-odd. And interrupt dinner meals.

"… yes." Toushirou nods.

"Then what about Ichi-nii?" Karin stops suddenly, and Toushirou crashes into her.

"Present, I suppose." He says, before realizing that he should have chosen his words more carefully. Or—not, if Karin is beaming and then raising a finger to her lips.

"We're about to go in and spy on the contestants." She lowers her voice into a whisper, and if pretty could be a sound, then this was it. "Operation Covert Secret begins."

And with that, she takes his hand, and opened the door, hoping that they were light-footed enough not to attract any attention.

* * *

><p>She stomps behind Byakuya and Kenpachi to enter the room filled with ugly ducklings, who believe they will one day become swans.<p>

Sorry sweetheart, there's no fucking way that will happen. The market for being swans, the best of the best has been conquered completely by them. And you're fucking stupid if you believe you can take their space.

Urahara is leaning back casually on a chair, his feet on the coffee table, not caring about the fourteen people standing awkwardly in a room on the first floor past the foyer. All of them are somewhat good looking, like you'd tap them and check 'em out as they pass.

In any other company she bets people would have found them extremely good looking. It just so happens that the ugly ducklings are in THEIR company, and they are gorgeous.

Life's like that.

The reaction when they enter the room is instantaneous. Some of that have had prior talent, so they do not turn red like the girl with big boobs and orange hair does. But their eyes dilate, and the blonde guy with teeth chokes a bit on his water.

"Greetings, everybody! Thank you for cooperating so _nicely_ for the photo shoot. I know who you are, the public knows who you are, now I think it's time that all of you know who each other are. Who'd like to begin?"

"My name is Matsumoto Rangiku" The strawberry blonde with big boobs says, the first to introduce herself.

"Please to meet you I'm Inoue Orihime." The girl who blushed brightly says, smiling widely.

"Oderschwank Neliel Tu." The last of the big boobed woman speaks. Her hair is an odd shade of greenish blue. What a freak.

"We are ElHiMo." They say in unison.

"The Tits Trio." She sneers, and Kenpachi leers at them. Pathetic. Byakuya ignores them.

The next is a girl, maybe nineteen. She has brown hair in a mullet cut and a strong stance. "They call me Tatsuki, I rap."

Kenpachi becomes more attentive. He does not really give a shit about a lot of music, but he knows rap and if that girl claims to be a rapper, he will pay much more attention to her than anyone else.

The next is a tall, lanky blonde with a lot of teeth and a fucked up page boy hair cut. Beside him is a short, mousey looking girl with long dark hair and violet eyes.

"Who're ya?" She asks, when the girl fails to introduce herself. She's standing too close to Teeth to not be attached to him. But Teeth declared himself to be a solo act.

"Yagami Hisana." She says a bit softly. "I'm not auditioning."

"Then why are you here?" Byakuya asks in his most obnoxious voice, the one where he doesn't give a damn, and the shy mouse squeaks. In a colder tone, Byakuya asks again.

This time the field mouse looks at Teeth, all hopeful like she's caught in the headlights. "Call it a favour."

Teeth is fucking cocky to bring a fan girl to the audition. Or his girlfriend. She's standing a bit close for a fan girl.

The next two are country singers Lily something and something Starrk. Oddly enough they aren't connected at all.

But who the fuck listens to country music? No fucking one. They're out.

The tall dark woman with the smoky voice introduces herself as Jackie, a jazz singer. The other woman, with a long black braid and a short skirt with glasses says she plays classical music, the violin specifically.

How the fuck is she going to compete? She knows shit all about the violin, and she knows Kenpachi is clueless as well. The only one who can help her is Byakuya.

The last group is all dressed similarly. They are all men, one with silver hair, one black and one with glasses. They look weird.

"We are Monkeys of Evil Triangles." The guy with glasses says. The fuck is with their name? Is there some weird Wizard of Oz referencing going on? "I am Aizen."

"Ichimaru" the guy with silver hair and closed eyes says.

"Tousen." The black guy says, and that's all of the fucking duckling. They've done the required look at our awesomeness she can fucking go now. "Hiyori-sama, please bare my children."

…

Kenpachi laughs. Byakuya smirks. Urahara is hiding his damn face behind his fucking fan, but his clogs are almost fucking falling off. The ugly ducklings are all quite-except fucking Teeth who is snickering.

"What the fuck are you fucking smoking?" She shouts before her sandal hits him in the nose.

* * *

><p>His dad texted him to go into the foyer to wait for him, so staying outside of the Agency is not possible.<p>

He stands awkwardly next to a potted plant in the foyer, waiting for the elevator doors to open. When they open, Isshin the president is visible, wearing something outlandish that his mother designed.

"Ichgio! There you are! We just have to stop in real quick for a sec. C'mon" his father is skipping down the hall before he can stop him. Ichigo follows him grudgingly, to the end of the hall where Isshin is waiting at a door.

"Kisuke!" Isshin says, throwing open the doors, "The last contestant for our contest has come. Ichigo!"

Ichigo is pushed into the room, before he can react, where everyone is ignoring his entrance to watch Sarugaki Hiyori pummel a blind black man into the ground.

Urahara is already intercepting, cartwheeling in the air, the showoff, and asking a nonsensical question: "How would the date have gone, Tousen-kun?"

"Don't you dare fucking ask him that!" Hiyori spits and contorts her face into a viper while she grabs the other shoe and almost sharpens it with her vampire teeth, had not the prissiest bitch of all of Hell's frozen garden lake intervened with a heavy look and a poisonous staring contest. "He doesn't need any fucking encouragement!"

"Fishing." Tousen says breathlessly, like there are stars before his eyes, prominent and spinning and sparkling in front of him. "My dear, we would have been so happy."

"You would have been beautiful together." A dork with glasses sympathizes, while a silver-haired Chucky the killer doll simply pats him on the shoulder with a "bad luck, next time's the charm."

"It would have been an excellent addition to the newspaper." Isshin sighs wistfully, no doubt visualizing the love square in his own days—Masaki, Isshin, Yoruichi and Kisuke—the object in question varying each time to make it more exciting and knowing that they'll never research the facts.

Hiyori barely bats an eye, before the tension rises as high as possible before something combusts.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Ahaha." Yoruichi claps her hands, nefarious catlike grin already slithering to where it belongs. "Spoilers."

* * *

><p>She reads the newspaper headline <em>'Super Couple Kuchiki Byakuya and Sarugaki Hiyori confirm their relationship'<em>

What. The. Fuck.

She grabs the paper, snarling and kicks open the door. Her heel click, click, click on the tile floor and she is running to the studio Byakuya usually occupies with his ginger manager.

She knows that the pretty boy is pretty. And she will admit he can sing. But she will not fucking tolerate something with this fucking level of sappiness.

"PRETTY BOY!" She kicks the door open, interrupting a recording. The tattooed ginger makes a move to protest, but she flips him off with a flick of her manicured nail and a wave of her blonde hair. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"

He, very elegantly and on his own damn time takes the headphones off to leaving the little glass room to meet her, and he elegantly tells her he doesn't fucking know. Without the curse word, because cursing is for lesser beings.

She scowls and flips him off. "Well someone fucking thinks we're together. " Her well worked up rant is ruined when the Head of the Agency skips into the room.

"Hiyori! You're here already! Excellent!" Isshin says, grabbing her arm, and bringing her in the glass room, motioning for Byakuya to follow them.

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" She asks, as both she and Byakuya slip on the headphones by habit.

"I've decided that you will be featured in Byakuya's new single!" the extravagant man says. "You sing the chorus!"

The look of noble and stoic disgust is highly evident on Byakuya's face. The three of them have occasional collaborated with each other over some singles. She has sung chorus's for Kenpachi and Byakuya when they have needed a female singer, but otherwise the three of them stay the fuck out of each other's work.

"I have already recorded the first half of the song-"Byakuya starts.

"Renji scrap everything of this song you've recorded already!" Isshin calls, as he leaves the glass room. "From the top!"

He becomes impassive, letting no emotion show on his face, as the violins that start the song begin. She is glaring through the window at the idiotic man.

"_I thought we could be happy._

_But I was never sure._

_And now, you look happy._

_I wish we could have been happy."_

"_Every time I see you, I act like I don't care._

_Like I'm over you, I tell myself that I hate you._

_But deep inside I know that I love you_

_And every time I see you, I fall for you."_

He joins in on the last line of the chorus, and they harmonize, and maybe this is what love sounds like to other people; but really to them it's just tolerance. And barely that.

"_I still love you…"_

* * *

><p>AN: The Milliner's Rook: I hope you're enjoying the fanfic thus far, and you get bonus points if you got all the references.

Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	3. Dance

They are the definition of being in love.

Shinji can see it perfectly, so beautifully, nose pressed into the glass so hard it refuses to break. It's a miracle that the air he exhales through his nose and through his mouth isn't enough to cloud his vision, and gloss away the red flush into a pretty pink.

"Shinji," Hisana mumbles sleepily, preferring to rest her head on his manly shoulders, "Shinji, you're being ridiculous."

She's not nearly as good at sleep talking as she used to be.

"Am not." He whispers loudly, but quiet enough that his voice doesn't override the overlap of voices, harmonizing together. They're in love, Shinji knows with a gaping grin, true love.

"You're acting like a stalker." Hisana continues in that sleepy voice, sulky because he and Rukia accidentally overdosed on the sugar last night and then spent most of the night-morning singing to each other ballads while Hisana cannot go to bed when the people she likes best remain awake. And Hisana will always love him best. Except for the mornings in which she crashes because she drinks decaf instead of caffeine because she never realizes when another Shinji-and-Rukia prank war even though the signs are all there. "A stupid stalker."

"I am not. I'm being a supportive fan." How dare his best friend say something like that.

"Shinji." She isn't buying it, looking at him through her eyelashes, the curve of her jaw line soft in his hands. "I—"

And that's when the shoe hits the glass, denting, actually _denting_ it; and the bubble of love between the fiery—_feisty_ Hiyori and the dead—_icy_ Byakuya has broken.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING? WE'RE RECORDING HERE!" Hiyori all but roars at them.

* * *

><p>He is not impressed. Not at all.<p>

He's scowling into his coffee, while waiting for Tatsuki to say anything.

She doesn't say anything, though.

He doesn't want to start the conversation.

He knew she wanted to be famous, get her name out and prove that she is the top female MC in all of Japan.

But why The Agency? Why his father?

"It's not being a sell-out," She says after twenty minutes. "Doing this. Don't be stupid and try to say you don't want the lights."

She knows him better than anyone, and knows that the lights on stage are the best high in the world.

"Not this way." He says.

"But what if that's the only way?"

"It's not." He says, because she knows what he he's been wondering.

What if this is his only chance to make music, real music?

Because if he doesn't make it soon, that means he has to finish school and get a job.

And leave music and the lights all behind.

* * *

><p>It's a piss off.<p>

Isshin is making the wannabes spend time watching them record. And she and Byakuya are fucking stuck with Teeth and his fangirl who. Is. Fucking. Asleep.

She's already fucking pissed that they came when they were recording the stupid duet, which they have to do and now there's the fucking articles that she's dating the bastard. Plus they still have to write a single with Kenpachi later tonight so they can get music written and have the song record for the radio in six days.

In short there is a fucking lot going on her life, and Teeth and his fan girl are not needed stress.

"Thank you Hiyori." Byakuya says dryly, "Our recording session is done for the day." He takes off his headphones and steps elegantly over the broken glass and the bleeding Teeth on the floor. "Girl come." He continues walking out of the studio, with Renji behind him.

The fan girl looks shocked, but she's now wide awake, trying to help Teeth up.

"Get the fuck out." She growls. "I gotta fucking mentor his ass."

* * *

><p>He loves the club. It's where the music is most raw. It's where his red hair and tattoos fit in, and where he can embrace the animal. He can rap and spit and the legend of Zabimaru can be heard.<p>

He used to go every night, but sometimes bigger fish take the spotlight, like Ichigo. The prodigal son of Kurosaki Isshin the man who defined and created the pop culture trend of Japan, has garnered a following. The new prince of rap he's been called.

He knows Isshin isn't stupid. Ichigo may have tried to keep his father uninvolved in his music, but he should have known that The Agency has eyes everywhere. Including his. He knew about Ichigo's music and like the dutiful producer/scout he told Isshin, not surprisingly Isshin already knew. And not surprisingly, Isshin had a plan.

He's not quite sure what the plan is, but he knows there is one, and it involves Kenpachi the reigning king of the underground music, and popular rap, and the contest.

Right now, he is satisfied to watch his charge, the famous ice cold idol try to work with a sleepy girl.

* * *

><p>Hisana blinks, and then with dignity, slowly backs out the door, mouthing a 'see ya' to Shinji and just about manages to shut the door before another shoe hits with an audible thump.<p>

There was a reason she stayed out of celebrity gossip circles. Merely nodded her head when it came to her best friend's and her little sister's almost gobbledegook discussions about them, and tried to pay as little attention as possible. The downside to that, tuning out to their ramblings, it meant that she had no name to go by to – even though she's certain Shinji must have name dropped it plenty of times. But nothing comes to surface.

On the bright side, it makes them equal.

"I have a name. It's Yagami Hisana." Hisana looks at the celebrity for the first time and isn't surprised that he's the generic formula of a pretty boy. Handsome, even. "Yours would be?"

He doesn't even have to bat an eyelid, but something hardens in his expression. Arrogance, Hisana guesses, but who can tell with a man sculpted in marble? Still, he answers her question, voice neutral. "Kuchiki Byakuya."

That does sound familiar. Maybe Rukia had a crush on him.

"Come." He says again, and Hisana scuffs her shoes before following, hoping he doesn't notice. The surroundings dizzy her, an endless amount of doors, and she is definitely lost without a spirit guide. Or Shinji.

"Where are we going?"

His face alters ever so slightly. She wishes that she hadn't noticed, and can only interpret it as irritation. The thing is that Hisana is not at fault here. She isn't being annoying like Shinji prefers to act. She's sadly just the tagalong kid; with no idea what she's doing here. In fact, she probably shouldn't be here in the first place.

"You know what, never mind. Can you show me the exit, Kuchiki-san?"

The pop star turns and faces her, probing. "Most people would want the tour to the building."

"Why? Are you offering?" Hisana lifts an eyebrow. She can play the unimpressed game as well, though Hisana doubts she'll ever be as blasé as him. There's a slight bite in her voice that she's never heard before. She doesn't wait for him to respond. "A grand tour to the exit would be much more preferable."

His glacial expression works wonders creeping him out; Hisana is nearly finished concocting her theory of the celebrity being a zombie, before he shrugs easily, a puddle in the water, ripples smoothing as the momentum fades.

"Fine, be a spoilt sport." A redhead man says, and heat quickly spreads on her face. She hadn't noticed him. How long had he been standing there? "It's this way."

Kuchiki stalks off, and the man says to her with a crooked smile. "He's always like that, don't mind him."

She just nods, unsure what to make of it. If anything, it was remarkably similar to a children's tantrum.

Then she remembers her manners. "Sorry, you are?"

"Abarai Renji. His manager."

"Ah."

"Yeah." He seems to share her sentiments, and then grins like a bright spark. "So, the exit."

"Thanks."

It would have been perfect.

Had not the mysterious hat people captured them and dragged them into another aimless direction.

* * *

><p>"Is this an everyday thing?" The mousy looking girl looks at Karin and her group of fashionable hat people—Yachiru and Yuzu—and then looks at Renji. As best she can. "Or is it too hard just to get to the exit?"<p>

"It's a little of both, to be honest." Renji admits, with a bob to the head in acknowledgement to the Hat Wench Yachiru. This is her idea, after all. Retribution is the word Karin's looking for. "Isshin encourages it. Prefers prank wars to paperwork."

"That's the old man." Karin grins, tilting the hat just a tad more to the left. "Ichi-nii used to be a great prankster. And then it got to him."

"… it?" Yuzu asks, with fear and admiration in her eyes. She is their father's daughter, and her love for stories can be stopped by no one.

Karin sighs.

"The emo candy." Yachiru gasps. It explains all.

"Of course." Fame, perhaps, would have been Karin's explanation. The idea of being a pretentious hipster, perhaps, avoiding the mainstream claim to fame. But this is much better. "He stole our old man's emo candy that he kept in the basement and thought no one would ever notice."

"No wonder Kaa-chan is so upset." Yuzu plays along, realization dawning. "That's why he keeps missing dinner."

(Although they too are at fault. Music is a finicky business, and some meals have to be sacrificed. Toushirou's fridge never complains when food is pilfered there.)

"We should draw on their faces." Yachiru says, and Karin is almost half-way in agreement.

"Wait a moment!" Yuzu stops them from even picking up the pens which have yet to be found, peering curiously at the unknown girl. "Are you a dancer?"

The new kid shakes her head.

"You were with that other guy." Karin recalls faintly. "The loudmouth."

"Shinji." She replies, and grins toothily.

"_Oh."_ Her big sister widens her eyes and cannot help but smile.

"What?" Karin glances at her sister. What did she miss?

"He stole regular candy." Yachiru nods.

"She likes him." Yuzu translates and beams. "I could write a song about that."

"Does the loudmouth like you back?" Folding her arms, Karin can't help but enquire. Metaphors and shit are important. Sure, she's the one who tries and works out the melody, but she's also the one who tries to reign her band mates back before the story has even begun. Only a little.

An expression passes over the tied up prisoner's face, coloured by red, though she doesn't nod or shake her head. One that Karin can recognize all too easily on her own. Yuzu doesn't have to help her understand unrequited love.

"Well, I guess we need reinforcements. Yachiru! More hats!" Karin declares.

Yachiru grins.

* * *

><p><em>TEST YOUR MIGHT.<em>

The text reads as followed, unchanging to his blinking eyes. And again: a new text message from Karin:

_TEST YOUR MIGHT._

Toushirou sighs, and then texts back.

_Give Karin back her phone._

With any luck, she'll actually listen.

_TEST YOUR MIGHT._

Apparently not. Unless this was Karin simply teasing him. And, knowing Karin, it's much better just to call her.

The violin playing stops, and Toushirou feels the gaze of the refined Yadomaru upon him.

"Sorry." Toushirou scowls, and turns away, "I need to get this."

As soon as the door shuts behind him, his thumb has already pressed the speed dial and Toushirou is waiting for Karin—it has to be Karin—to pick up.

"_MORTAL KOMBAT."_ Yachiru shrieks and then there's nothing but static.

"_Hello?"_ Karin's familiar voice soon become audible.

"You pestered?"

"_I did. We need hats. Two, in particular. Wait, three. One for you as well. Raid my old man's wardrobe and pick the most atrocious ones you can find." _Karin drawls. _"Someone's got to use them."_

"This is madness." Toushirou scowls. No one uses Kurosaki Isshin's hat factory. They're deemed so awful that Hachi—the generous designer burst into tears after realizing what his protégé had become. Tears of horror, not of pride, Toushirou believes.

"_No, this is—"_

Toushirou hangs up before the punch line kicks in. He brought it on himself.

It's up to him to save those poor sods.

* * *

><p>"Sing this." She throws the page of lyrics to his face. "Now."<p>

He catches and opens his mouth.

"_You didn't love her,_

_Because you don't destroy the person you love._

_One day, you'll crash into this wall that you've created._

_I hope she breaks your heart."_

She is impressed, most Idols wannabes can't carry a tune, without autotune, and he is surprisingly very good. Like liquid silk, easy and almost dirty the way he sings part of a song the three of them have to sing.

"How's that?" He turns smirking at her. She doesn't resist the urge to toss her shoe at his head.

He fucking knows he can sing and fucking knows she's impressed.

He doesn't know to duck.

* * *

><p>"<em>Karin!<em>" Toushirou yells just as the stupid idiot crash lands on the floor. "Fuck it, where is she?"

"Don't fucking know, don't fucking care. OUT!" Hiyori snarls, stamping her feet and marching to slam the door shut on his face. The door opens a fraction of a second later, judging by the unchanged death glare. Hasn't reached Level Two just yet, Toushirou realizes, as he remains unimpressed by her theatrical slapstick, determined to shut his mouth. "I'm asking because the guy behind me is incompetent shithead and I need something to amuse me. What's with the fucking hat?"

"Karin's kidnapping people and holding them prisoners. Apparently she needs hats. It's a persuasion tactic."

Luckily for Toushirou, Level Two doesn't affect him. It simply cranks down the air, which is something he's pretty comfortable with.

"Is it working?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Good, tell her that, now fuck off." Hiyori scowls and slams the door just in time to crush his foot.

Hiyori always likes to crush the people that surround her, leaving them to curse her name under their breath.

* * *

><p>"Who're you?" He asks lazily. Maybe he's a new intern. He knows they have no new trainee, that's what the fucking contest for.<p>

"Hitsugaya Toushriou." He says, strongly.

Huh. The kid's not afraid of him.

"Have you seen Karin?"

Karin's a riot. Rarely serious with a side of sarcasm and extra large snide remark, often digging at anyone and everyone. She and her sister have good voices.

If Isshin was a stage dad, or at least one with his own kids, they could be top pop female idol duet. As it is, Isshin just lets them run rabid, which is how they met his kid and they now make The Agency their clubhouse.

"Urahara has them." He says, and goes back to looking over lyrics. He's got a single that's meant for release in a few days, as well as the one with the others.

The kid turns to go away.

"Hey kid. Read this out loud." He pushes the scrap piece of paper to him.

He takes it a bit confused and starts to read.

"_I feel like I'm dead, but I'm breathing._

_You should have tried harder._

_I don't give a fuck._

_I'm the jealous type._

_I can't even lie."_

He has a pretty good rhythm, and while he doesn't feel the power behind the words, but he can get there.

He could be a rapper.

"It sounds…okay." He says awkwardly. Then leaves.

Maybe he was scared.

* * *

><p>There's a series of doors opening dramatically before it actually reaches their own. Karin is entirely certain it is fellow hat person Toushirou that has come to their aid.<p>

And so it is.

"Let them go, Karin." Toushirou says, panting a little, skin flushed from opening so many doors. He leans on the door for support, and Karin refrains from patting his head in favour of asking kindly if he'd like to catch his breath and join them in watching the adventures of Jake the dog and Finn the human. He agrees, and the ridiculous looking hat remains on his head for the remainder of the episode. It doesn't deter him, but he's more relaxed and in controlled when he stares straight through her, and repeats his demand, "Let them go."

"Mm." She bites her lip and doesn't know what to say. It was never really about kidnapping Renji and Hisana—now that they've been sworn to secrecy about _chameleon children _and _Arcane Blue_. "It won't change anything, will it?"

The arrangement she wants.

"Not a thing." He shakes his head and Karin just sighs and glances at her sister. That plan is not working.

Although, actually, they could have got up and left any time they want. Yuzu untied them sometime during the fifth episode.

"Fine." Karin points at them, hands untied. "It's their choice."

"Though if you don't mind," Renji deadpans, "Some snacks would be good."

Yuzu grins. "That's our prisoner. Needs no incentive to stay. I allow it."

"I'll text Byakuya the details." The redhead digs out his phone, and matches the sly cunningness that Karin feels with a crooked grin.

"I want nachos!"

"Nachos it is."

Manager privileges are awesome.

As are Fionna and Cake.

* * *

><p>"… I asked for nachos. Nachos." Renji rolls his eyes once the door opens and Byakuya with a picnic basket of goodies save nachos appears. "Is that really so hard to ask for?"<p>

"Allergies." Kuchiki Byakuya says simply, bullshitting without blinking, as if that settles the matter and that their conversation is now able to be stepped on and forgotten with a second glance.

"Wish you were allergic to ribbons instead." Renji mutters. All that fancy fiddle work is unnecessary.

"… you're still here." Kuchiki turns to look at her, and Hisana wants to be too busy laughing and being unsympathetic to the Frost King to care about this Human Popsicle.

"Yeah, well." Hisana shrugs, and sort of looks at the wall behind him rather than at him. "I got kidnapped. These things happen."

"… by hat people."

And she is now one of the hat wearing people.

"We have alternative view of what a prisoner is in the Agency." Karin explains, and sounds bored with the conversation.

"Clearly." He doesn't react at all, responding with the same amount of enthusiasm, then turns back to his manager. "Renji, we're ready."

"Good to know." The affable manager says, then stands up. "Kids, you deserve a treat. Watch this genius in action."

"On one condition," Kuchiki flips on his ice stare at her, "no falling asleep."

Heat flushes through her face, and Hisana angrily bites her tongue to stop her saying anything at all. Like _he_ has an excuse of two hyper gossip girls who spend far too much time giggling and braiding each other's hair and getting addicted to strawberry lace and poking Hisana awake so that she can't get to sleep if they can't either. Especially since she didn't get her proper cup of coffee. Renji understands this.

"Relax," Renji says, like he's reading her mind, "there's a coffee machine nearby."

"Let's go then." Yuzu smiles, saying it almost like a song. "Lead the way."

"Aye-aye, Captain." The fuzzy antlers on Renji's head are shaking.

* * *

><p>"<em>Sometimes two hearts just can't dance at the same beat.<em>

_Someday we'll forget the hurt._

_And here I am._

_Still wondering when I will see you again._

_And frankly, I'm tired of missing you."_

He's amazing. And worth being kidnapped and deprived coffee for most of the morning, or is it afternoon. She sort of understands how all of Japan is in awe of him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**TMR:** How awesome is the latest bleach chapter? xD. I totally approve of Shinji's new haircut.

**SF:** We want fanart! We will bribe for fanart! Thank you so much for reading and hope you enjoyed!

Love always

Us


	4. Sing

**T**his is how Hisana explains it to Shinji, how fame isn't for her and that she won't be joining him into the Agency this week. It's a bit like the movie Black Swan—or any movie, that people universally recognize as this amazing being—because, yes, the Agency is comprised of talented and amazing people, but that doesn't mean that it's her thing. She can respect it, respect him, but she has university work to do.

And a job.

"I swear the price has gone up tenfold." Hisana says, as a final parting for the week—as long as he promises to fill in Rukia about the 'juicy details', since Rukia likes to be in on the gossip. It hasn't, but it feels like it. "I'm going to need another job."

"Hey," Shinji's dazzling smile is enough to make her smile back in return, enough to make her feel like she can take on the world. "You leave it to me. I'll use my Idol powers for good."

"You're okay with this?" A flush of heat spreads over her face, and it must be because she's his 'lucky charm' that she feels a little bit guilty in abandoning him. However, she can't hold his hand forever, is the best way to see it.

"Only if you promise to come with me in the weekend." Shinji leans in like conspiracies are the closest things to almost kissing. "I promise you that it'll be the highlight to your week."

"Where are you taking me?" Hisana raises her eyebrow and feels like adventure is waiting for her, if she only said _yes_.

"Secret." His voice lowers, about to laugh in his mysterious Vincent Price ways.

"Ooh, am I invited?" Rukia says, out of blue and bursting their bubble, and Hisana squeaks and steps on Shinji's foot. She has to remember that if she forgets—Rukia will never let her live it down. All the opportunities!

Her best friend grins, apparently no longer in pain. "You bet. I wouldn't let either of you miss this for the world."

* * *

><p>The magazine sells out in minutes.<p>

Anything with any of the Three mentioned sells out anything and everything.

The possibility of any of them together…mindblowing.

Although some would prefer Kenpachi and Kuchiki Byakuya together over Saragukai Hiyori and Kuchiki Byakuya.

But really, no one cares.

All the papers and magazines are sold out are owned by the Shihoin family, and the top selling magazine that always has the exclusive details going on in The Agency is _Benihime._ If it's not in _Benihime_, then it never happened for any idol news, especially regarding the three of them.

Which is why on Tokyo TV's nightly news there was a long feature on the relationship between Sarugaki Hiyori and Kuchiki Byakuya.

* * *

><p>Isshin likes his office.<p>

He's been in many head offices in his time, and he knows how intimidating they can be.

To be fair though, head offices _are_ supposed to be intimidating.

His is warm, and filled with comfortable chairs and photographs of his family.

He loves his family, and at any time of the day he is generally willing to discuss his family or to partake in Ultimate Hide And Seek; but now he has to actually work.

Spread across his desk are the files for all of the contestants. Each of them have potential. But potential isn't enough.

Potential gets your foot in the door, talent, hard work, drive and star quality keeps it from being bitten off by the rabid and cold industry.

He knows what he's talking about. He made the industry his mistress and Japan his lover in three years and has kept that relationship for over thirty years now.

His non-blood legacy is cemented in three stars, but he wants to make sure his stars, Japan's new idols have a legacy too.

Someone here, in this contest will be that legacy and continue The Agency.

He hopes it doesn't blow up.

* * *

><p>He thinks it's adorable. The two people who hate each other in the world are being elevated into popularity because of a relationship upgrade and they can do nothing but loathe each other with every simpering smile.<p>

"The hatesex must be awesome." Karin laughs, as she helps herself to making popcorn in his kitchen.

"Brain bleach." Toushirou scowls. It's something he never wants to think about. "It's not happening."

"Yeah, and we're not watching _How To Train Your Dragon_." Karin laughs, at home with his kitchen. "Who cares what the rest of the world thinks? Change the channel, turn on the DVD player, and let's watch the movie!"

Toushirou rolls his eyes, but nonetheless does as she says.

He doesn't move away when Karin joins him., hands already reaching out for the popcorn. There's nowhere else to go, and it's not like she's complained before.

One day, the both of them will find their very own Toothless. Toushirou's pretty certain it'll be him first.

* * *

><p>Tatsuki fidgets in her seat, as he watches her under his sunglasses.<p>

She doesn't know what to do around him.

Well if he was face to face with the king of rap in all of Japan he would shit himself secretly if he wasn't the fucking king.

"Gimme a verse." He says.

She swallows, but firmly opens her mouth and plants her feet on the ground.

"_No one really knows our heartaches._

_And here I am; missing you again._

_Romeo, take me._

_I've had so many words,_

_But I had no courage."_

He nods. It's passable. Japan has no female rapper, and she has potential to become the queen of rap. He turns to Ichigo.

Kurosaki Ichigo.

He's a mystery. His father is Isshin, owner of The Agency and his boss and the icon of Japan's popular music. It's no secret to any of them that Ichigo has a name for himself in the underground world. He's even seen some of his shows.

Ichigo is good. There's no question about that. But is good enough?

Because face it, everyone will judge him by Isshin's abilities, irrationally because they are different genres and different eras. Fuck different people for simplicity's sake.

The question with Ichigo isn't talent, it's his ability to get out of Isshin's shadow.

"_I'm tired of the lies._

_I'm tired of the compliments that I know are said out of pity._

_I know what I am._

_And that's not me._

_I'm not good enough._

_I lie to you every day._

_Just stop!_

_You're making it worse._

_I know I'm not good enough."_

* * *

><p>It's a rare night at the club. Zabimaru is here for the night.<p>

When he was kid, fourteen maybe and just starting out Zabimaru was it, was the legend. But then he disappeared, and rarely ever performs.

In fact this is his first performance in a year. His mixtapes are so hard to get, and believe me you, Ichigo fought for every one of those he owns.

He came here, to club as a goodbye.

He's selling out, like Tatsuki did. He's letting go of the club, of the piercings and tattoos, of the smoke, the weed, the drugs and all the underground booze and girls that come with it.

He needs to chase those lights.

But right now the lights are on Zabimaru.

"_Now every night ends with a letter to you_

_But there's nothing new to say:_

_I miss you, wish you were here,_

_Want to hold you._

_Excreta, excreta ._

_What a drag"_

* * *

><p>Is it a conspiracy?<p>

At first Shinji didn't notice, but now they're everywhere. _Everywhere._ It started by accidentally kicking one. Bruising his foot and breaking his new shiny shoes in the process. Now he can't stop seeing it. Holding doors in place. Keeping paper down. Sitting beside drained smoothie glasses.

"What, what _is_ it?" Shinji asks Byakuya, who is drinking expresso in the vicinity for no particular reason.

It's a rock. With googly eyes. And pink swirls, for this version. The last two had blue scales drawn. It's a very bad imitation of a fish.

Byakuya simply stares, thinning his mouth, and eventually replying, "Hyourinmaru."

"What?"

Smoothening out his sharply dressed suits, Byakuya doesn't say another word, and leaves soon after.

"Oh, you found him! Project shoebox!" A light haired brunet says, palms open wide in a way that he simply gives her the rock painted with pink swirls and googly eyed. "Tell nobody, okay?"

"Okay." Shinji says, nodding as the teenage girl smiles—looking roughly the same age as Rukia, at a guess—and then skips away.

Just what exactly is project shoebox?

* * *

><p>She pissed. More than usual which means both Kenpachi and Byakuya are avoiding her. Even Isshin is. The only person who isn't avoiding her is stupid Urahara, who is in fact trailing her around, teasing her about her intriguing love affair with the ice idol.<p>

"How's your lover?" He asks, "Are you going to make him a bento?" She throws a potted plant at him, which he dodges easily.

"Fuck. Off. You. Fucking. Pappazazzi. Asshole."

Seriously what kind of head of a talent agency makes his best friend and godfather of his children the editor of the biggest most famous tabloid magazine? And then lets him have free range around the entire agency?

There is so much more wrong with Isshin then just his clothing choices.

"I've got a fucking song to write so move you fucking ass out of my way." She growls and pushes him aside as she stops to the studio where she's supposed to meet Byakuya and Kenpachi.

"With your lover?" Urahara calls behind her.

She gives him a double finger salute in response.

* * *

><p>There are worse jobs in the world.<p>

Grave digging for one. Professional deodorant sniffer comes to mind as well.

Being the manager for the top ballad Idol in Japan is not a bad job.

It pays amazingly well, and it gets him in the industry. Not exactly the way he planned when he was fourteen, but either way he is hearing the screams and seeing the lights.

And besides if he didn't give up rapping, he wouldn't be currently in the position to watch his charge, (because it's really more like babysitting an over large sullen ten year old who has a great vocabulary and somehow manages despite not talking snark and sarcasm) currently glare at the mousy haired girl who somehow wandered into the studio glued to the obnoxious blonde man.

Now, as Kuchiki Byakuya's manager there are certain things he is allowed to do. He certainly has much more freedom then many people wish. Teasing Kuchiki Byakuya is one of his hobbies and job perks.

However this time, he refrains from doing so. This is the first time he has seen him get affected by a female who is not Hiyori, nor is Yourichi, Masaki or one of the Kurosaki Twins, or their friends.

He sits back, and enjoys the show, as Byakuya starts to stand then sit then stand again.

Finally the girl and the blonde man leave the common area, and Byakuya looks back at the blank sheet of paper where his lyrics are supposed to go.

* * *

><p>More than anything, Isshin supports the Hammock Sanctuary, located every other room where people who need a break can relax. Yuzu can be found here reading, Karin dozing, and Yachiru often tries to be the sneakiest Mortal Combat fighter who splashes people awake with a bucket of water when she is one hundred percent certain that they are asleep.<p>

It is also a good place to eavesdrop.

Hammocks are basically the furniture version of bats, after all. And there's nothing to stop him from eavesdropping.

"OI, SHIT-FACE, ARE YOU THERE?"

And everything to hide him from a classic Hiyori tantrum.

* * *

><p>Hisana huffs and tries to believe that the red flush of heat on her face is caused by anger. She wasn't supposed to be here, but Shinji has some stupid cravings like a pregnant woman and Hisana is never going to tell him where she found this particular brand of still warm cookies because he'll be broke and spend all his money there once he knows, and the day he becomes a rich celebrity, he'd by the company and make it go bankrupt because he became obese by tasty cookie dough.<p>

But Shinji's exaggerating his sounds of pleasure through elongated mms and ahs and ohs.

Hisana is going to die of embarrassment If he continues any longer.

"Shinji." Coughing, trying to garner his attention, Hisana briefly considers the possibility of just ditching him here and now, and when he looks up she won't be there. "I'm going to go."

"Mmm—wait, what? No!" Shinji stops chewing mid-bite. His eyes snap open and he looks straight into her soul with those pretty blue eyes of his. "You can't just leave me."

"I'm on my lunch break." Hisana says. Her shoulders tighten, and she thought Shinji understood why she can't do this. She wants be with him here, but she can't. "I'm not getting fired because of you." Flatly, she says.

"I know, but—"

She checks the time. "I gotta go." She's got to run if she doesn't miss the bus, and she can't do that again. "Bye Shinji. Good luck!"

It's just her luck that she crashes into…what did Shinji call her again? His trainer? Vocal coach? The small girl who looks underage and says the most volatile things with the sweetest smile. Rukia was a fan of hers.

"Sorry! I was just leaving!" Hisana squeaks, trying to make herself as small as possible and lift herself from the floor, no help needed since it happened all the time.

"Fucking right you were." The freckled singer snaps, rolling her eyes. "Fuck my life, be gone."

Hisana says nothing, technically in agreement, but disliking the ferocious attitude. What was it about image that had to make all celebrities have bad tempers and contempt for everyone else?

Now where was the exit again?

Hisana walked onwards, escaping Shinji's trainer by choosing a random door and stepping through.

"Yagami-san,"Abarai Renji blinks, wide grin lazily making itself known on his face. "We meet again."

Kuchiki Byakuya, suffice to say, looks less than pleased.

"You, um, wouldn't mind helping me find the exit again, would you?" This building has so many doors, it's like Shinji's trying to keep her here!

"You're better off with Byakuya as insurance." Renji tells her nonchalantly, glancing towards his client in wry amusement. "No hat person will try and kidnap you then."

"… if you say so." Hisana sighs, resigned to take his advice. She really had the short straw today.

"Byakuya?" Renji says, pencil dancing between his fingertips. "It'll only take a second."

"Fine." Icily, Kuchiki Byakuya nearly snarls, will all the temper that a yeti can muster. A fire demon and an ice demon, no wonder the two were dating. Opposites attract for the strangest of reasons. "This way."

With each step towards the exit, Hisana can feel herself shrink even more. Yetis are the reason old people grow smaller –and mindless teens too – his coldness is snapping their spine in two, and close proximity to the ice demon only increases the process. He's not one for small talk.

"You should invest in a map." Kuchiki Byakuya informs her, once the streets were clear in sight and she'd murmured her thank-you. "Then these situations would be avoided."

"Perhaps you would design it yourself" Hisana replies, and folds her arms across her chest, tired of the silent judging. She doesn't look back as she pushes the door. "You can spare me the autograph."

* * *

><p>She glares at him.<p>

Shinji sits on the leather couch, lounging looking at her expectantly.

She sighs and gets her heel back.

"You can fucking sing." She starts, trying to keep it brief. She fucking hates speeches. None of them like them. At award shows, you're lucky if you get three words from anyone of them in an acceptance speech. "You know it. I know it. But you need to be better than fucking anything."

His cocky grin falls off his face. She gets a bit of vindictive pleasure because of that. He's too fucking arrogant.

She watches him stand and march into the booth. She presses record; because she has a feeling it may be something she'll want to have record of.

His eyes are wide open staring at her. She doesn't break eye contact. He wants to fucking show her.

"_Bright lights and city alleyways_

_Sky clouds bluer than the ocean crash_

_Wind feathering my hair._

_None of it matters when I don't have you."_

She's never heard those lyrics before, if he can write music as well he's almost golden. He's singing accapela, powerfully and smooth. Like the whiskey she drinks.

She wants a fucking drink.

* * *

><p>"Just so you know, I have black belt skills." The violinist says, cold eyes piercing straight through him. "I also practice aerobics regularly."<p>

"I know." Toushirou says calmly, not flinching in the least. "That's not why I'm here."

Yuzu and Yachiru would want to start those classes if they had the chance.

Perfectly poised, glasses shining, head still tilted, Yadoumaru Lisa watches him.

His mouth goes dry.

"Spit it out then." Impassive, doesn't give a damn, there's something wonderfully admirable about her. "Why are you here?"

Karin's been rubbing off on him, Toushirou thinks at the back of his mind, because he'd never raise his hands up in a gesture of peace.

"I want to listen to you play."

Yadoumaru's face hardens, mouth thinning at the edges, like she suspects that he's here to collect information and sell it to the other competitors. What she doesn't know is that Toushirou likes her—the violin is a natural instrument for her to hold, and plays beautiful melody that Toushirou could only achieve in his dreams.

"Fine." She gives in, and raises her bow like a taking a lover in her hands. "But turn your phone off."

Toushirou smiles. "I can do that." He can tell Karin all about it later.

Then he waits for her to create her symphony.-

* * *

><p>For three people with such distinctive personalities it is a wonder how they get along.<p>

Mostly, they ignore each other.

But still time is passing away. They have less than five days to write this song now.

He plays around on the computer, trying to find a beat or something that will make it work.

It is incredibly late, and they all have busy schedule tomorrow. The wannabes are showing off their talent to them now, as well as Isshin and Urahara and then they can start making cuts.

He plays around with a small soft beat, slowing the tempo down to almost ballad, to reach Byakuya's fans. He adds a heavy bassline that his tracks are known for, and decides that the melody should be done on electric guitars, identical to Hiyori.

His companions watch him, and he presses play.

* * *

><p><em>"I'm not sure<em>

_Seeing as it is cold outside, I shall remain indoors where it is comfortable._

_I can't think of a sentence_

_Declarative._

_I like peanuts in the garden."_

"Again." The vocal coach tells the practicing group of girls. "Project more. Harmonize. Feel the lyrics, put power in the lyrics."

Rukia nods with the rest of the girls, before continuing on with singing that chorus to a senior idol from their agency's new single.

This continues for almost an hour before ending.

Rukia wants to stay behind and practice again because she can't hit those high notes prettily enough, but she has to meet Onee-chan for an early dinner. Maybe she'll see Shinji-kun as well.

She hopes there is progress.

She's humming and skipping slightly down the street before a video on a TV screen catches her eye.

It's Saraguki Hiyori, dressed in a pretty white dress, that is awfully short, and ripped up stocking that seem to be attached to a garter and leather boots.

It's her new music video and she is in a museum full of beautiful art pieces some of glass, and she is kicking pieces of glass and they shatter.

Some of the glass gets stuck on her hair and her skin and she is bleeding slightly.

Rukia watches enchanted as Saraguki Hiyori doesn't care and gets on a table filled with figurines and vases, and kicks those out of the way.

She can't hear Saraguki Hiyori's voice, but the lyrics are captioned on the screen, and she's listen to this song over and over again on repeat, enough to drive Onee-chan insane, and threaten to destroy her precious Kuchiki Byakuya poster.

"_Those crocodile teeth and salty tears_

_I want them all (so much much much)_

_I'll be your mermaid and rip my heart out_

_And honey, you'd better choke on those arteries"_

Rukia mouths along with Saraguki Hiyori and dreams that she can be like her one day.

No, she will be.

But maybe not as mean.

* * *

><p>It's the showdown that can finally happen.<p>

Kurosaki versus Kuchiki.

Actual music instead of whiney pretty boy troubles.

Or something like that, he's been listening to Yachiru too much lately he seems.

Either way, he can now face Byakuya as an equal of sorts.

Now that he has been accepted tentatively into The Agency, admittedly it's a concert he did not want to enter and got in only due to his family standing and he might not even get to train with The Agency, but he is still here.

"Byakuya." He says, the tall idol turns. He's wearing the same stupid scarf again. "I won't lose."

Byakuya as always has a stoic expression on his. Sometimes Ichigo wishes that something outrageous would happen and make him drop his stoic-ness. The man only comes alive, if that on stage.

"The likes of you will never touch me." He says, and with Renji leaves the room.

It's almost time for everyone to start to get ready for the dress rehearsal for the performances for the first round of eliminations.

Ichigo has spent most of his childhood with Kuchiki Byakuya. Byakuya debuted when he was eighteen five years ago, but had been training for two years prior, as had Hiyori.

In another way his childhood was different than other childhoods, he spent time training in a way with fourteen year old Hiyori and sixteen year old Byakuya when he was twelve, and before he realized how fake the idol industry was, Byakuya was his hero.

Not anymore.

He's going to show Byakuya his pretty words don't mean shit if they aren't true.

* * *

><p>The melody plays over and over again.<p>

Its catchy and it doesn't make him want to beat himself over the head like he thought with Hiyori's guitars and a rather obnoxious bassline.

The lyrics though doesn't work easily.

They've decided though to split and write individual versus along the theme of a lover who left for various reasons. The beginning and closing though are different, they're to be sung in unison and they need something to work for all of them.

He's considered a lyricist genius, and he's written his verse in the idea that he is in love with a fan and cannot be with her. It's vague enough to let any woman fantasy about being with him, and realize why they can't.

He realizes that Kenpachi is just listing words, trying to make them all agree. Hiyori is flicking pens at the window, perhaps trying to do Morse code and signaling for help.

He wishes Renji was here to get him out of this.

Renji is nothing if not loyal, however his loyalty is strongest to Isshin not him.

"Stop staring at the fucking sky." Kenpachi snarls. "Write some damn lyrics."

"The sky's more inspirational then you." Hiyori shoots back.

"Listen Midg-"

"Will you both shut up so we can go?" He says, stopping the migraine before it starts.

"Well I'm sorry your majesty" Hiyori snarks. "Didn't mean to get your scarf in a twist."

He feels the migraine grow.

* * *

><p>Shinji's smile is the more ridiculous and charming smile ever to exist.<p>

The weekend comes too quickly, it seems. The surprise—is a concert, and Shinji has found special tickets for them to come with him—double good luck charms should never go underlooked.

"You are going to apologize that you forget the bouquet, right?" Rukia demands with an arched eyebrow, as she looks between them, the door just opened. Hisana's blush worsens, spreading under her shirt.

"Next time, I promise." Really, he shouldn't say these things, Hisana huffs and pointedly glares at her baby sister. "How about I buy you your favourite sweet as an apology?"

"Hmph." Rukia looks away, head held high, arms folded across her chest. Drama queen, Hisana sighs at her sister's antics. Rukia has to be the most unsubtle drama queen.

"Rukia, that's enough."

"It's not." Rukia insists, looking at neither of them. "I shall not move unless Shinji apologizes in the way he should if he's your best friend and a true gentlemen."

"Rukia!" Hisana says exasperated. This is not the time. They're running late, as it is.

"You're right, fairest princess of them all." Shinji cries dramatically, head thrown back as he rushes forth, grabbing Rukia's hands with freshly coated dotted nails, and kneels. "Your favourite sweet is not nearly enough. You deserve a bouncy castle."

"A bouncy castle?" Rukia blinks, musing at the thought. Tempted to give in.

"You'll have to do better than that." Hisana interrupts. Her sister may be many things, but a castle, even a bouncy castle, is not what is going to be what it takes to break her sister's willpower. "Rukia-hime is not swayed so easily."

"Gotcha." Shinji winks, and that of all things should not make Hisana forget how to stand upright for a split second. It's unbearably cheesy. He rises, still holding onto Rukia's hand, and kisses her on the cheek. He lets go of her, only to do the same to Hisana, cheeks burning at the contact, ribcage hammering like a drumbeat. "You look pretty."

"Yay!" Rukia claps her hand, the prettiest princess of them all, illuminating with a grin. "Now we're ready to go!"

She skips and grabs Shinji's hand, determined that Shinji reaches for Hisana's hand, and he does. Their fingers intertwine and tighten in his hold.

"To the concert!" Shinji leaps into the air, Hisana and Rukia laughing after him.

Crafty, evil sister.

* * *

><p>He is bored, and wants a cigarette.<p>

They have to watch the contest and see who will come out on top. This week at least.

As always, there is the girl who comes alongside the blonde loud mouth who Hiyori constantly complains about. Surprising there is a miniature version of her beside her looking at the practice theatre in awe.

Karin and Yuzu along with Kenpachi's child and the white haired teenage who follows Karin around are also present, as well as Yoruichi and Urahara.

Isshin stands on center stage, and despite being in his mid to late forties, with a scruffy beard, and a tad out of shape, he is a commanding presence. He understands how he is a star.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen and Karin and Yuzu who should be in class, I present to you the new ones." He says loudly and hams it up on the stage, before exiting to the applause of only Urahara and Yuzu.

It begins.

Lisa is first. Karin is especially annoyed at this because Hitsugaya is watching the violinist play with deep concentration in the wings, behind the scenes. His attention is on the spotlight, the girl who shines underneath, the bow and the polished instrument, aquamarine eyes fixed on the willowy brunette.

Toushirou's been enamored with her ever since he's heard her play, a fucking divinity that only winged seraphs could covet. Yuzu is sixty percent certain that he's misquoted that, Karin is aware.

Would it be so difficult if Toushirou could look at her like that, once in a while? A kiss might be nice too.

Making the first move shouldn't be that hard, should it?

"Hey, Toushirou." She begins.

"Karin!" Grabbing her arm, Yuzu turns her away from the stage. "Plan cheerleader needs to happen stat!"

"Gotcha." Karin snaps her fingers and demands, "lead the way."

If Toushirou turns to look at them, Karin doesn't notice.

* * *

><p>He's nervous.<p>

It's stupid. So stupid. So incredibly fucking stupid.

Why the hell is he nervous?

He doesn't pace back and forth like the guy with the glasses from the indie band does. He's not like Tatsuki who is swinging her cellphone charm around and around.

He stares straight ahead, focusing on a smear on the stage. He likes that smear.

When he was younger, he and his sisters always played here, dancing and singing on stage. One time he slipped trying to wear stiletto heels of a dancer, he slipped and lost his front teeth on that spotted, which then needed to be repaired. His father, ever the odd one decided to let the three year old twins paint over the hole in the wall, resulting in the smear.

"Ichi-nii", he turns to see Yuzu and Karin standing beside him, rather than the seats beside their father. Yuzu is clasping her hands to her chest, looking nervous. Karin looks amused. "Good luck Ichi-nii. You'll be great. Dad knows you're the best."

That's it. That's the nervousness.

The undercurrent of fear. That everyone in this competition only thinks he's got this position because his father owns The Agency.

That he's not good.

"You're the best MC in the underground." Karin says, for once not sarcastic, and not loud. He notices now his sisters have huddled around him. "Dad wouldn't let you in if there wasn't any talent. Forget talent, if he didn't know you could make it."

"You're really, really good!" Yuzu takes his hand earnestly. "You're um, your raps, they're really, really, um, intense and –and good!"

He smiles a bit at this, Yuzu has never embrace rap, instead listening to Byakuya's ballads. He knows that out of loyalty she listens to his mixtapes, under strict promises that Isshin never finds out about his music.

"Everyone here will be signed and debut really well." Karin says matter of factly. "It's just a matter of if it's at The Agency or one of the lessers. Don't sweat it."

He nods.

He can hear Isshin announce his name to perform next.

He swallows his nerves.

* * *

><p>His greenish blue hair shines on the stage, his grip on the microphone strong.<p>

Now or never babe.

He counts the beats after the guitar riff and starts.

"_It has to hurt for it to heal._

_Well I hope I die first,_

_Because I would be too sad if you died before me._

_Someday you will miss me."_

She likes this music. It's got a kick. He's not some idol wannabe which makes her happy. She gets enough of that shit from teeth.

This is her music, loud obnoxious with beautiful melody and guitars screaming.

"_I keep myself busy with things I want to do_

_But every time I pause I still think of you"_

Grimmjow finishes his stage with one long note, and a bow. His fellow contestants clap.

The three Idols, the paparazzi and the owner mark down scores and other notes. He has no indication if he did well or not.

Fuck.

He did good.

* * *

><p>She doesn't like him.<p>

She really doesn't. He's too suave and confident in his skills. For someone so unknown there, he acts so cocky and annoying and damn frustrating.

He sprouts ideas of love and happiness between her and Byakuya every few minutes, and when he's around Byakuya it's like he can't breathe and he can come up with trying to be witty things to say around him.

Around her, he doesn't fear her. He gives just as much as she gives and takes just as much. He's witty and sarcastic and argumentative. He doesn't listen to her at all when she's giving him her fucking amazing advice.

She's never been fucking nervous before going on stage-the stage is her fucking palace-or watching someone on stage.

She's fucking nervous.

Spotlight's on Dickhead. Don't let her down now.

* * *

><p>It's amazing to stand so near the stars of today, the contestants that promise so much with their singles in the future. Rukia sways to the beat, twirls her hips and claps enthusiastically when she can.<p>

"Isn't it great?" She says to Hisana, who is warily looking around her, like she doesn't trust the people surrounding her to not invade her personal space. It makes Rukia feel a little guilty, because Hisana's never really been able to improvise and let the music wash over her. There was a moment, once, that Rukia thought that Hisana had let herself go, but… when Shinji sang again, it was like nothing had changed and Hisana was uncomfortable as ever.

"Hey look!" Tugging on her sister's sleeve, Rukia points. "There's Shinji!"

The cymbals clash against each other as they make their introduction, rave colours striped across their face.

"WE ARE MONKEYSOF EVIL TRIANGLES." Gin snickers as they stop being silhouettes in smoke and puffball dragons.

"For you, Hiyori-sama." Tousen croons, beside him, and Aizen takes hold of the mike.

"_Angel above, sanctimonycalls,_

_We serenade you withdivinity_

_We pray for you to heed ourcall_

_And bear Tousen's children."_

Out of the corner of his eye, Gin can just about see Hiyori struggle against pretty boy Byakuya and the almost zombie Kenpachi. She will kill them when they get off stage, but life will certainly be complete.

And now he raps, ultra dance moves extraordinaire in position for extreme audience thrills.

"_HIYORI, SUCH A MOTHERINGFIGURE, HIYORI!_

_THE CHILDREN WOULD BEBEAUTIFUL_

_SO BEAR HIS CHILDREN_

_HIYORI, SUCH A MOTHERINGFIGURE, HIYORI!"_

Worth it.

* * *

><p>She's terrified of blending in. All the other acts have started to blur together, only Ichigo's stands out to her, and that is only because he's also rapping.<p>

This idea, that she can do this. That she can go on stage and rap and let everyone know all the emotions and talent and ability she has, how words can flow and just because she's not idol beautiful doesn't mean she can't do this, she can't be a star-

Breathe Tatsuki.

Just breathe.

You can do this.

Deep breath.

"_I'm leaving because you never asked me to stay._

_I trusted you, my mistake._

_I wish I was your favourite girl._

_I really do miss what we almost had."_

She feels the beat more, and she can open her eyes. The nerves of performing before Kurosaki Isshin, her ex-boyfriend's father and Kenpachi are lessoning, when she can Ichigo nodding along with the lyrics. She's confident now, she moves around the stage, getting more involved and getting the audience involved now.

She can see Karin and Yuzu dancing around.

"_You can't always get what you want._

_Don't say you love me_

_Unless you really mean it._

_Otherwise I might do something crazy,_

_And believe it."_

* * *

><p>"Hey, you were awesome." Karin says to her big brother, grinning like a loon because she's fucking proud of this moment. "Nothing to worry about, see?"<p>

"Yeah." Ichigo smirks, hiding the tremor in voice well, the slight shake in his frame. None of that vulnerability could be seen on the stage, none of it can be seen now, unless people cut through his bullshit. "What was I thinking?"

"That you can take over the world!" Yuzu says with a rising smile, flailing and standing on the tips of her toes, about to jump. "Like you said in the song. The rhetoric—you've really gotten better at the… not stuttering. "

"Thanks." Ichigo grins.

"But don't get cocky. You're good, but, well, give us, well—Yachiru, hand Yuzu that triangle, and Toushirou." Karin clears her throat. "Shirou, get over here. We wants you and your kazoo."

Her best friend more or less shuffles towards them, frowning as he walks away from his current conversation, kazoo in kept in his pocket. The thing about kazoos, Karin has heard many times, is that they are mystical beings that hold so much potential that nobody knows what to do with them. But he, Toushirou said, a little bit drunk on elderflower, he will make kazoos popular and loved. Kazoos are cool.

The whole world should know that, but no one appreciates it but him.

It's not the first time Karin has wondered if his elderflower drink is not alcohol instead.

And anyway, a kazoo fits into chameleon child—nothing else can be quite so compatible for a keytar and a flugelhorn as a kazoo.

"What?" Toushirou asks, arching his eyebrow.

"Improvise with us, yeah?"

He looks at her, searching for the answer that she won't ask today. "Just this once."

"Awesome." Karin grins, and the ensemble is complete, Ichigo waiting for their performance. Part two of Operation Cheerleader begins: Yachiru clapping and Yuzu playing the triangle, Karin sings.

"_Ichi-nii,_

_You are tall, you are orange, you are awesome_

_Ichi-nii,_

_A rock-star you are not, or a frowning scowl monster_

_Ichi-nii,_

_Smile a little more, and we'll write better songs_

_Ichi-nii,_

_But until then, we'll cheer you on, 'cause_

_Ichi-nii,_

_We totally want you to win."_

"Needs a bit of work," Karin says lightly, "but we're totally adding more verses each time you make it through."

Ichigo throws his head back and laughs. "You guys should be on the stage, not me."

"Nah. We want you to have dibs, and then we'll steal the spotlight beneath your nose. Our own way." Karin grins.

Ichigo's stomach rumbles, and Yachiru gives him a 'gentle' push towards the vending machine, which lies beyond the waiting room and through the door.

* * *

><p>Rukia watches the rapper, the tall orange haired rapper who destroyed the stage in such a loud, crash angry way exit.<p>

Hip hop, rap that whole area of music is big in North America, not so much in Japan. In Japan all there is, is Kenpachi.

She's never liked rap or hip hop before. It's too angry, and unpredictable and wild. It's terrifying. Rappers get shot and do drugs and are involved with gangs.

But he's slightly mystifying, because he doesn't dress like all the other rappers, in baggy pants and oversized hoodies. Instead he's wearing skinny jeans and an English band shirt.

"Rukia you're staring." Onee-chan whispers, completely ignoring the fact that she turned beet red when Shinji-kun was on stage.

"No I'm not!" Rukia denies. "I was just admiring the colour The Agency paints the walls."

Hisana gives her an unimpressed look.

"I'm serious!" she insists. "I'm going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?" Rukia stands and gathers her bejeweled Chappy clutch.

"Green tea for me. And probably water for Shinji." Hisana says, glancing over at the lanky blonde who is in conversation with Saraguki Hiyori-sama.

Huh. Odd.

She skips out of the room to the hallway to try and find a vending machine.

The orange haired rapper who only identified himself as Ichigo is standing in front of the machine, as if in a staring match.

If Ichigo wins this contest, there is a chance they will be on music programs together. It is best for to her to make acquaintances.

Of course, Shinji will win.

"Excuse me." She says.

He looks at her, almost surprised like he didn't hear her footsteps. "Oh sorry."

"It's okay." She smiles. "You were really good you know?"

"Yeah." He says shortly. "I know."

She blinks.

She's never met someone who that confident. Not even Shinji.

Before she can say something, he leaves.

The nerve.

* * *

><p>It's a simple stage. There is really no makeup or theatrics. They use the break when the judging happens as a chance to showcase the new single to get radio play soon.<p>

They are dressed simply. Kenpachi in jeans and a t-shirt, Kuchiki Byakuya in slacks and a white buttondown shirt with his ever present scarf and Hiyori-sama in a simple babydoll dress. They all sit on stoolswith a microphone each and a spotlight on each of them, as the music plays.

Rukia is transfixed. All three of the top idols on one stage together, and this is their first rehearsaltogether.

"_Sometimes I stare into the sky_

_I wonder where you are and where am I._

_Because we're so far from where we said we would be_

_I know that I could be better_

_But please tell me you're happy."_

She is amazed at how beautiful their voices sound intertwined. The soprano, baritone and bass all blend together beautifully in a very mournful song.

But then both the men stop, and Hiyori sings.

"_I keep on hearing your voice_

_Every night when I try to sleep_

_I keep on seeing your face_

_With everyman I meet._

_I know I said go_

_But why do you haunt me still?_

_Don't say you don't like who I am_

_Because who I am has never changed._

_Just who do you think you are,_

_Coming here and telling me I could be better?_

_This is the best I can be."_

It's so different from her usual songs. She sounds innocent, and hurt, her voice matching her childlike looks for once, but still liquid gold, so easy to listen to. She is the center of controversy, but still her voice is one of the best in all of Asia and perhaps the world.

There is a pause, a break where the music takes over. She knows that this will easily be number one on the Orion charts for a long, long time. Rukia almost screams when Byakuya starts to sing. But then she notices, he seems to be looking at her direction, well not her's but Onee-chan's direction.

"_My world is not a place for you,_

_The spotlight's too cold, the media too cruel._

_You would never say anything, but I could see it hurt you._

_You wouldn't leave, so I made you go._

_My worst moment, but I'm hoping you're happier._

_You who sacrificed your happiness for me._

_Be happier, being free._

_I bite my tongue to stop from calling you,_

_I will only cage you."_

Rukia almost melts, and she stares at him. Everyone else, all the competitors seem to stare as well, transfixed at the man, who oozes off sex appeal. The only one who doesn't seem affected is here sister who shuffles her feet and inspects her nails.

There is no transition period, Kenpachi starts straight into a rap, a slower version, that matches the tempo of the song.

"_The stars mock me._

_They shine so bright_

_They remind me of your smile_

_When I kissed you goodnight._

_Then you got a gun_

_And went bang bang bang to my heart_

_You tore apart every hope and dream I didn't dare to say_

_I watched you walk away_

_I wish I could hate you I want to hate you_

_For everything you did to me, every word you didn't say._

_But I can't_

_So be happy while I'm miserable."_

At once all three of them stand up. Hiyori-sama kicks her stool off the stage, while Kenpachi knocks his down. Only Kuchiki Byakuya's stays up. They walk to different parts of the stage, where their personality shines through. The last verse they sing in a round-like style. Kenpachi starts, and half way through Hiyori-sama starts the same line, and when Kenpachi is almost done the line Kuchiki Byakuya starts the line.

"_You who haunt my dreams_

_You who I can never forget_

_I hope everything is going the way you wanted._

_I hope you don't forget me_

_I hope you look at the stars and think of me."_

When Kuchiki Byakuya finishes the last note, the stage goes black. Everyone breaks into applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Isshin takes control of the centre stage, fabulous in his outfit, that's been changing every time he's appeared onstage, each time more spectacular than the last. Masaki is a talented designer after all, and each deserve to be known.

The crowd cheers once more, loving him like a magnificent prelude.

"I hope you've enjoyed the night, our contestants, our celebrities." Isshin waits, grins into the microphone, preening that the true star of the show was him—they always enjoy him best, once the adrenaline rushes to his head, and he flounces on stage with theatrics. "Now I've come to tell you that the results are in!"

Snapping his fingers, the drum roll begins, the anticipation builds.

Nervously, the singers wait behind him, tensing as the neon lights go wild, blaring and blinding them, not knowing who it is. Who's been voted off.

The answer is kept even from him, until there is total silence, and the name is spoken in his earpiece.

"The contestant who is not going be appearing next week is… Jazz Chanteuse Jackie!"

It's only been a week, not long enough for the contestants to form proper friendships, but still, the shock is there, the sadness, the relieved sense of it's not them that claws at the other contestant's throat and tells them not to say anything bitchy.

It's a shame, Isshin liked the sultry elements to her voice, how she sang with a deep throaty voice that sent every syllable bone deep.

But this is the curse of a contest like this—every now and then, there are the unlucky ones who deserve better, and the fickle crowd wasn't enough to realize this. They get swept off their feet by entertainment instead of talent, until that novelty wears itself thin.

He hands the microphone to the jazz singer, who has shaken away the comforting pats on the back, ignored the awkward hugs, and sincere sympathies.

"Thank you," Jackie drawls, smiling nonetheless, eyes dry. She glances at him though a sideways manner, and half-shrugs like she's the epitome of jazz, demure and debonair. "It was nice knowing you, folks."

Short, simple, graceful.

The night ends quickly after Jackie says her goodbyes, crowd cheering her on as she sings her last song, swaying with her as she entrances them for the last time.

* * *

><p>It's just one call. Just one phone call from someone.<p>

It destroys her.

She doesn't scream, doesn't cry.

All she does is fall down on the carpeted floor.

Byakuya and Kenpachi who overheard the conversation on the phone gather around her.

She knows whose scarf is wrapped around her and who is holding her.

She's safe to fall apart here.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Suki:** It's been a while hasn't it? Sorry about that, it's mostly my fault, exams, papers, and moving due to end of relationships do take up time…but to make it up to you, we made you an extra long chapter…which has been taking a long time.

But! We're finally getting towards the plot. The big triggering of such, now we've got pretty much a lot of the groundwork laid. PLUS RUKIA AND ICHIGO FINALLY MET! That was so hard to write! You have no clue how hard it is to try and keep people in character, as IDOLS/pop stars. Is it working?

Plus this full of crack ships. So many fun crack ships. I'm starting to like the Hisana/Shinji one in particular. What's your favourite crack ship we got going on?

Also who do you think will win?

Now, you might have noticed we're not as active on this site as before…but we're so tumblr crazy right now it's funny. Do you all have tumblr? If you do that's so cool. Tell us your tumblr.

Thanks for reading.

Love ya all Suki

**TMR:** I hope you enjoyed it. It's so fun writing the crazy shenanigans

Please review! We eat reviews like Hiyori makes Shinji eat her slipper!


	5. Interlude

_Damage control_.

People don't tend to realize this about Kurosaki Isshin, taking him for at best, an idiot savant, at worst, an idiot, but he cares about his protégées, the stars of the current day, whom the public adore.

But when shit hits the fan, there's no one more protective about his family than Kurosaki Isshin.

The Academy is his family, sharing his blood through the passion they have for the industry.

When he hears about Hiyori's tragedy, it's his instinct that propels him to act.

He'll be Hiyori's pincushion if needs be, but now is the time to talk to Urahara, who has no doubt heard the news through other resources, mere whispers perhaps, the pipes that hide behind the walls and rattle when a particularly juicy secret is yet to be told.

This a private matter, and Urahara can spin amusing tales with no base in them as much as he likes, but this stays quiet. The public remains unaware.

In time, Hiyori will utilize her pain and create a feral monster, sound the words out like rubber and plastic, and they'll stick to the cochlea like glue.

But not yet.

* * *

><p>It's unmistakable, the sound of breaking that's drowning them.<p>

He doesn't even fucking know how to talk Scarf Boy. They just sit across each other in the large conference room, silently trying to find a way to placate the blonde haired girl who is sitting between them, looking at the cup of water Tattoos gave her.

Maybe it's the time for silence. But he thinks if it gets to silent, Blondie will forget how to talk.

And yeah, Blondie's mom dying is a tragedy, something horrible because she was such a nice lady and the only person in the world Blondie would listen to. He doesn't know how this will change anything, but the world keeps on spinning around its axis.

It has to.

Everything keeps on moving, but for Blondie her world just lost its axis and she's not spinning anymore.

He thinks the greatest tragedy is that Blondie won't move. And if Blondie won't move, she might not sing again.

"Fuck this. I'm getting us beers." He stands, and the chair screeches back.

Scarf Boy stays.

He can't explain the relationship the three of them have. It's a long fucked up story that has snide comments, giant fights and perhaps a few music moments.

He just knows that it's lonely on the top, and they're lonely as well. There's no one for them to compete with, or try to better themselves. In becoming the best, they have stomped out any of the competition, so they're racing against themselves.

There's no peers for any of them, and Japan sees them as gods.

He has never thought of how trapping that title is until. Japan's god of rap, Japan's god of idols, Japan's god of rock.

Gods cannot fall.

But they aren't gods, they are humans, and humans can fall and break.

Like Blondie.

And he and Scarf Boy can only watch from their pedestals.

* * *

><p>The weekend passes slowly, and though the contestants are relaxing, outside, at home, everywhere that isn't the Agency, inside things are tense. The walls are thin, the glass is broken, but they all wait. It doesn't matter if some are scribbling down the next greatest hit, everything's put on hold the second the sour hearted star appears in periphery vision.<p>

Nobody leaves the building, because Hiyori hasn't left.

Yuzu thinks that maybe she should leave a gingerbread trail, scatter food left on pristine white plates on the marble grey floors, so that she doesn't starve. Yachiru likes the idea, but Zaraki isn't so sure. He doesn't say it, merely ruffles her hair and smirks that _almost_ paternal grin that Ichigo sports from time to time.

He keeps his eye on her, and musses up people's finely brushed hair. Particularly Byakuya's.

* * *

><p>Dead.<p>

Dead.

Deaddeadeaddeaddeaddeaddeadd eadead.

It just blurs together.

She still has to go to her apartment. She has to go to the morgue and officially identify the body.

She can't.

She can't.

Because if she sees her mother on the metal slab it will mean it is true.

The whole reason she sings will be gone.

"_Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows._

_Without you, the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play._

_The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly, without you._

_The earth turns, the sun burns, but I die, without you."_

She tries to sing, but her voice breaks, and the notes fall flat.

There's nothing she can do anymore.

The fucking best singer with the innocent beautiful baby doll looks is now just a broken little girl.

She tries again, but can't get past the first verse before the lyrics die in her throat and she is screaming.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Like a bass drum it echoes in her ears, drowning out everything else.

* * *

><p>He does not know what to do.<p>

Death is something neither he nor Scarf boy can deal and make it go away, like stalkers, or bad press or rivals.

Death is permanent.

He can't do anything but watch the Midget become animalistic and lock herself in a studio alone.

He hugs Yachiru more, holding her close.

He is reminded of what a child goes through when they lose their sole parent. He doesn't want Yachiru to feel that same pain.

* * *

><p>It's not rare to see Masaki at The Agency. She's often there, playing with wardrobe, remising of when she was the top name in stage fashion, bringing Yuzu and Karin along with cupcakes, and becoming much loved by everyone at The Agency.<p>

Usually when there's something like this, Masaki would be there, lending support and bringing food. So he finds it odd when he finds his mother sitting at Isshin's desk.

"Mom?"

She looks and smiles at him. "Hello Ichigo."

"What are you doing?"

Masaki smiles and shows Ichigo the pictures of them through the years.

"I'm just thinking about how quickly you grow up."

"What?" Masaki laughs.

"You don't think you've grown up at all, Ichigo." His mother says softly, "But you're very far from the four year old boy who was always crying."

"I wasn't always crying-"

"But now, you're almost an adult, and you're going to grow up even more. And I get to watch you."

Ichigo wants to hug his mother, and he moves to do so, but she moves away at the last minute.

"I'm really lucky."

Masaki hugs him.

* * *

><p>It's a secret.<p>

A really, really big one that only Kirio knows. Knew. Fucking whatever.

Hiyori loves the piano.

Back before she was born, Kirio was once a semi-famous classical pianist then she fell in love with some dick and Japan back then wasn't really nice to single unwed mothers and Kirio was disowned.

Kirio used to go to some jazz clubs, really bad places with her little baby in tow and play the piano to drunk patrons, when she was five Hiyori started harmonizing with the piano, no words yet, just notes and that drew people's attention.

She sang to survive in the ugly ghetto with her beautiful, beautiful mother. When she was ten she decided she would get her mother out of the ghetto, away from the smokey clubs and the drunk men who leer.

Finally, finally she bought her mother who own grand piano in the large penthouse they share. Shared.

Kirio played every day whatever she wanted: Mozart, Bach, Chopin, to the point when Hiyori can name any piece composed by any of them within one bar.

Hiyori also knows how to the play the piano.

But she never played for anyone but Kirio.

And now, she hates the piano.

She hates it so much, she has locked herself in one of the practice rooms where there is a piano and cries on the shiny ivory keys.

"Hiyori?" there's a voice, young hesitating and female.

She looks up, through the smeared eyeliner and the running mascara. It's Karin, one of the three Kurosaki children and one of the few kids she actually likes.

"I'm sorry."

She notices the bleached boy who always hangs around Karin, her boyfriend maybe? Who gives a fuck anyway, step forward and she sees he has piano hands. Long slender fingers just like Kirio and she wants to rip them out.

He sits beside her and starts to play _Gaspard de la Nuit._

Karin harmonizes alongside the music, singing the melody.

It sounds so lovely and beautiful,

She tries to smile.

* * *

><p>"The time has come, my dear old friend, to talk of many things." Isshin murmurs, stretching like a cat. "Of girls—and boys—and flying shoes. Of tempers—and grins. And why the air is very cold. And whether scarves have wings."<p>

"That was awful. It's brilliant." Kisuke grants him a wide smile, and claps with vigour. "I love it."

Isshin sighs magnanimously.

"What's the matter, Isshin?" Urahara asks, even though the problem has been here, stagnant and mourning for the past two days. Hiyori has been sullen and nothing can bring a smile to anyone in this building. Isshin looks more despondent than ever.

It's not the limerick, that's for certain. No matter how apt it might be to suit the three stars.

"The next performance… it's difficult to decide what it should be."

"Ah." Something fitting, something related to Hiyori. "I see."

"Yes." Absently, Isshin murmurs, then reaches down to open a draw, tossing his friend some balls. "Shall we juggle?"

It is an activity that always leads to either defenestration, be it a person or an actual juggling ball; glass always being broken in the process. Kisuke is happy to oblige.

* * *

><p>Ichigo helps Yuzu bakes a shit ton of cupcakes. He knows he looks like a ghost—he can feel the flour sticking to his hair in messy clumps, and that's going to be a bitch to wash out—but he'll say it again and again that it was an accident. Though he's not normally one to have butterfingers, it just sort of happened without due warning.<p>

But—it's calming. Doing something that takes his mind off the gravity of the situation, the atmosphere above, and seeing Yuzu return to her former disposition, doing something that she knows well.

He's not particularly fond of Hiyori, too much of everything for him, but Yuzu does.

These cupcakes are for her, and damned if Ichigo won't push his sleeves past his elbows and tie an apron around him, if it helps his kid sister.

"You're doing the frosting, right?" He asks again, scowling ominously at his former enemies: hundreds and thousands, chocolate chips, sprinkles, smarties. Whenever he tried helping out at home, it always seemed to be a mess, graceless and inelegant. Always less… fancy than Yuzu's stylized taste.

"Right." They're still a long way away from that, Ichigo knows, but Yuzu is moving around the kitchen like it's the back of her hand, and this is a better alternative than ordering pizza and sleeping in hammocks. That's almost begging for cabin fever. "Clean up, and we'll continue."

"I'm not that bad." Ichigo insists, except it is.

"Number one rule in baking!" Yuzu snaps her fingers, sternly glancing at her older brother without star struck admiration that so many pitiful fans have looked up at manufactured idols, there's no glazed cherry red faces here. It's her way or no way. "Hygiene!"

The consolation prize is in fact that Ichigo gets to eat the leftovers.

* * *

><p>If it hurts to smile, she'll just smile more.<p>

Over and over and over again.

"_Nee, Hiyori-chan you have such a pretty smile, why don't you smile for Okaa-san more okay?"_

Over and over and over again.

Drag up the smile and show the world.

Drag up every throwaway word Okaa-san said, remember it.

Embroider it in your brain.

Don't let her go.

Just smile Hiyori.

Smile for Okaa-san

* * *

><p>"Geez, what happened?" Shinji says to himself as he strolls through the doors, Monday morning, full of vigour for this week. Normally it's such a bubbly place, now it's like everyone's has found a new reason to become a broken robot. He can actually see the sparks fizzing out, blue screens of death flickering to black on their faces. That, and there's a large amount of cupcake trays everywhere.<p>

"Something big, that's for sure." He mumbles under his breath, picking up the trays and tidying them up, placed neatly to the wall. Maybe it was a party, maybe it was something else.

It's a little bit like a gingerbread trail, and Shinji, ever curious, follows it to wherever it goes.

* * *

><p>The text is a surprise, but an inexplicably happy one. Hisana blinks, smiles and reads the contents<em>.<em>

_need you to come over to the agency. asap._

Her smile wavers, then disappears into a thin line. She bites her bottom lip and quickly replies.

_Is everything okay?_

She's long given up on trying to persuade him on using cap locks. At least Rukia's willing to listen to her still.

_i don't think so. too soon to say. get here as soon as you can._

And the thing is—

_please hisana_

Hisana has never known how to say no. Not to Shinji.

"Nee-chan?" Rukia peers at her, eyes owlishly wide. "Are you—"

"I'm fine," Hisana nods, aided with a quick smile. "I have to go. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes," Rukia beams, cheeks bright pink. With nervousness, Hisana guesses. "Don't worry about it."

Nonetheless, Hisana kisses her sister's forehead, her hand framing her sister's jaw. There's only the tiniest of height difference between them, so just for a little more effect, she stands on her tiptoes.

"Good luck." Earnest, she gives her farewell; then tries to remember where the nearest bus stop is as the door shuts behind her.

* * *

><p>"What do we tell them?" Renji sighs, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "They're going to know something's up."<p>

Outside, the streets are loud and bustling. People are talking in groups, side by side, or a mess of synchronisation. Some people wait in taxi cars, hoping that the lights change colours. Other people are looking through the window of the bus, glad they can't feel the wind against their face.

Blissfully ignorant.

"Nothing." Byakuya replies, sounding bored. There's music to be made, and he's made no secret of the fact that the crotchets and the minims and quavers are being disrupted by Renji's company and chatter. They'll be scattered and thrown to the bin if Renji doesn't stay quiet.

Byakuya has his methods. Renji isn't allowed to be present when they happen.

His client glares.

"Alright, I'll leave." Hands raised in surrender, Renji rolls his eyes as soon as his back is turned. "Get to work, genius."

Left to his musings, Renji can't help but wonder.

Certainly not the truth.

But if they ask…

Well, it'll be something close to it. Renji shrugs, craving a cigarette. When was the last time he smoked? He frowns. If they ask him…

He'll say whatever comes to mind.

* * *

><p>It's a fluke.<p>

The one door he walks past, doesn't expect to turn back to, opens slightly. It must be a mysterious gust of wind, that's for sure, Shinji reckons, as he turns back and becomes a slave to his curiosity.

There's no one there.

"Hello?"

Maybe it's a ghost.

A ghost with red-rimmed eyes, wet cheeks and hair the colour of a dying sun. She sits uncomfortably on the sofa, staring at her hands. They clench and unclench, and she watches them move like they're out of her control, and there's nothing more like to do than scream. The music videos he's seen her in would make the wall crumbles, as she smashed everything down to a handful of dust.

"Hiyori."

She acts like she hasn't heard him. And maybe she hasn't, because hearing his voice is less than a whisper, it would be a miracle if she did.

He steps forward, and still she doesn't react.

Even when he crouches, so that her bowed head is forced to see him, his hand touching her knee gently; she doesn't blink.

"Hiyori." He tries again, and sees a flicker. There, he thinks, that's something. "Hey."

"What do you want?" She asks, with none of her fire, only a mechanical voice. He misses the nuances of rage in her voice, so vibrant. He could probably make a sonata out of that, if he were a little bit more experienced and interested in classical music. "Go away."

"No."

She frowns. "What, are you deaf? I said go away."

"No."

"Why the fuck not?" She spits, and there's venom in her eyes; poisonous and toxic. He sees stars burn up and acid fumes pouring out in a deadly storm moving across the ripples in her body and pushing him to the ground and pounding his chest. His heart beat is steady, stable under her, as they're left in contorted shapes against the floor. "Get the fuck out, I don't want you; you're not her, so get the fuck out of here."

She doesn't stop hitting him, tiny fists against his chest. Her bony knuckles shine. He's so confused, and she's mumbling incompressible sentences, broken sobs.

"You're so stupid. I hate you. I hate you so much."

She's volatile incarnate, and he's never seen such an awe worthy person. He'd thought her to be a god, all of them to be gods, this one vicious and brash and loud and beautiful, and she held the spotlight and commanded her own shadows to tremble before her.

"What do I do? I don't know what I should—"

But even gods in the limelight are human, when the only thing that holds her is a closed door and the paparazzi looks away. She's breaking apart so easily, tears prickling her already red eyes.

"She's gone—make her come back—"

He can't wipe away her tears, but he can hold her. Try to, at least; some form of comfort is better than none. So that's what he does, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her delicate figure, as she shakes and curses and cries.

* * *

><p>And that's when it shatters.<p>

The wishing and hoping and thinking and praying and thinking and dreaming. The dates and kisses and everything that Hisana's ever wanted, gets crushed through a one-way mirror as she watches them so tightly intertwined. Hiyori's head is furrowed into Shinji's collar bone, and Shinji holds Hiyori…

Almost reverently.

In a way that he's never looked at her before and now Hisana doubts that he ever will. Not even that time she broke her leg, and Shinji had promised to take care of her with the impish of smiles that kept her in a good mood for the rest of the week.

Not like that.

What was the point of being his lucky charm, to go against everything she disliked about fame and singing and stars, if he wasn't in love with her?

What was the point of her being here at all?

* * *

><p>Even if no one really knows what's going on, everyone knows something's wrong.<p>

Kuchiki Byakuya, Sarugaki Hiyori and Kenpachi were never approachable, and rarely visible even at The Agency, but you could chance upon them with their managers or perhaps in discussion with Isshin, (read: rolling their eyes at him.)

You could always know that they were there. It was a sense of comfort.

But Tatsuki can't even feel the presence of them. It's as if they just disappeared, or died or something. It's so disconcerting.

She doesn't even see Shinji, who is the most charismatic trainee, though she does see his girlfriend, who is very white and looks like she's lost in this giant maze of everything.

She looks for Ichigo, or Karin and Yuzu. Maybe Karin's boyfriend.

Because if anyone knows what's going on here, it would be one of them.

Though only Karin's boyfriend would make it make sense.

* * *

><p>He is rereading the file of paper's regarding Friday's press conference with the three of them is frustrating.<p>

He also has to meet with Yumichika, and Kuukaku. All of them with great difficulty have charges, though he doesn't know which one he pities more. True Byakuya barely interacts with any human if he doesn't have to, but at least he isn't constantly being called 'Baldie' or constantly having to clean up from the brawls Kenpachi starts.

He wonders if he should take more Tylenol.

Speaking of which, he wonders how Yumichika has been dealing with Hiyori. They constantly fight, and he truly wonders if they'll go separate ways every day.

"Abarai!" Kuukaku calls and walking lazily towards him. "Got you coffee. Where's the peacock?"

"Thanks." Renji takes the steaming hot cup of coffee, and lets the brunette woman lead the way to the conference room on their floor. "Not a clue. Probably arguing with the stylists for the hair and clothing choices for Friday."

Kuukaku sighs, and sits herself down. "So much damn work for a five minute press conference."

"Five minutes? No, it says it's supposed to be an hour."

"Don't be stupid Abarai. You know it, I know it, Isshin and Urahara know it. Talented fuckers, but their personalities are not the type to stand for being put on display like that."

He can't fault that. The word 'charisma' defines them to a fault, each other that has nothing but charisma, talent, tenaciousness, cunning and star quality. But personable isn't even near the list of personality traits they have.

"Well it's gonna be one hell of an outrage."

"Bring those fuckers." Kuukaku says, drowning half of her cup of coffee. "Wouldn't be the first time one of the babies caused a ruckus."

No, no it wouldn't. On the list of top five most frustrating issues that was caused by them including Kenpachi never being allowed to perform at the zoo, and Hiyori's period of throwing sex toys at passer-by's, however Byakuya's Ping-Pong cross dressing incident is still number one.

"Besides after this shit, a ruckus might be exactly what Hiyori needs.

* * *

><p>"Another batch ready?" Karin grins, brightened at the prospect.<p>

Ichigo grins back, before taking the muffins out of the oven and sets them out on the counter. "Yep. Give them a few minutes though. Don't want you to burn yourself, or something."

Yuzu half-turns at that, as she has faith that her sister won't do anything of the sort. Her mouth opens and closes, then she shakes her head and tells him, "We're running out of ingredients."

"Trays too, I imagine." Ichigo adds, lifting his eyebrow, to which Karin only shrugs. "You couldn't be bothered to bring them back?" Another shrug is her response.

"Next time, I promise." She rolls her eyes and lifts the tray up. "My compliments to the chef-mistress, Yuzu."

Yuzu laughs and curtsies, before adding, "Karin-chan, you mustn't forget Ichi-nii."

"And chef-master Ichi-nii." Karin amends, nodding with a lopsided smile. "My compliments to your unique designs."

"Tcha." He looks away to hide his proud grin, but whichever way he looks, one sister will catch it.

"Later then," Karin says, picking up the freshest batch and gives them a little wave before she leaves.

The two chefs wait a few seconds, hearing her footsteps quieten as the distance widens.

"What do you want to bet that she shares them with Yachiru and her boyfriend instead?" Ichigo teases and sees if it makes Yuzu conspire with him or dunk flour in his hair again.

"Ichi-nii!"

* * *

><p>It's silent.<p>

And not the type she likes. This is the type of silence that feels comfortable, and warm, and just not right with fucking dickhead around.

To be fair though, she isn't her usual self.

She is curled up slightly on the black leather couch, while he is sitting at a table, scribbling what is supposed to be lyrics.

Eventually, if they get to the end of the contest, they must perform an original song. One that has none of their hands on it. They cannot help with the lyrics, the performance, the music, or the production.

Which is why it's odd he's doing this around her.

"Dickhead, what the fuck?" She says. "Usually you're fucking talkin' about shit that doesn't matter."

He looks up at her slowly. "Sometimes silence is needed." He says evenly, before looking down at the paper.

"The fuck?!" She tosses her heel a him, which he catches.

That stops her.

No one has ever caught her shoe before. True though, Byakuya, Kenpachi, Isshin and Urahara all have the ability. She's seen the flag football game. Hell she was the Quarterback and they caught all of her passes.

But he shouldn't be able to catch.

"Look Hiyori, you're mad and angry 'cause your mom died. Fighting with me won't do anything but make you more angry."

She leaves.

Slamming the door behind her.

* * *

><p>"Cupcake?"<p>

Hisana looks up, not expecting anyone to find her. She doesn't know what she's still doing here. Except she saw the swings in this room, and wanted to sit here for a while.

The Agency has an entire room full of swings. That's ridiculous.

This entire place is ridiculous.

"Hey, it's you again." The young girl says with a smile – the girl who liked hats, Hisana recalls. She was a prisoner of hers for a while, for some reason. "Hisana, right?"

"That's me." She nods, pleasantly surprised that she is remembered. "You're… Karin?"

"Yep." The brunette smiles approvingly, and sits down beside her on a nearby swing. "You should see the room with hammocks. My old man's insane, I swear."

A room with hammocks?

It's a very strange place.

Hisana frowns, and for lack of anything to say, looks at her feet.

"So, how's it going?" Karin asks, leaning forward. Hisana draws back, not certain how to handle the attention. She's never liked the spotlight, but at least it's one-on-one, and in a secluded room. "You and Shinji?" The girl furrows her brow, and looks at her once more, curious. "You like him, right?"

She's blunt.

Hisana blinks, not sure how to answer. If it was Rukia, maybe she'd reply, but she doesn't want to answer and stubbornly says nothing.

"Sure you don't want a cupcake? They're nice." Karin offers, changing the subject and Hisana accepts, grateful. She takes a bite, and it's sweet. "My sister made them. My brother too. I'm not very good at baking, but if I can help, I'll take it."

"They're good." Hisana says with a smile.

She's rewarded with a beam. "I'll be sure to tell them that."

They eat in silence, and the younger girl has started to nibble on a second cupcake when Hisana asks. "Do you want to talk? You look… a little upset."

"It's the same thing as always. I want this guy I like to join my band. But he won't. And, okay, I can deal with that. That's fine. But he doesn't have to avoid me." Karin huffs, kicking the ground to set the swing in motion, a slow sway. Quieter, she adds, "I didn't want that."

"That's terrible." Hisana comments, sympathetic.

"_He's_ terrible." Karin sighs. Frowns. Says louder. "He sucks."

"Shinji likes Hiyori." Hisana says suddenly, wanting support, needing something. She feels desperate, at her wits end. All the emotions, the anger that she's pushed down are emerging and they won't stop. "I – I thought that I was here for him _because_ – I mean, that's – you don't ask someone to come here as support because you see them as a _friend_!"

Right?

It was only a matter of time, she thought; something was going to happen between them. Asking someone to share the dream that he was living… those five minutes of fame. Being the lucky charm. His lucky charm. That's not what friends do.

Support them, cheer them on.

Not being a lucky charm, and blinding her with his toothy grins. That's what girlfriend and boyfriends do.

"He sucks." Hisana says slowly, realizing that she believes it. She will not cry. _She will not cry._ Determined, she blinks quickly. But she's so _angry_. At him. At herself. For letting him lead her on. She says it again, stronger, more powerful. "Shinji sucks!"

"Boys suck!" Karin joins her, standing up and matching her in volume. When did she start shouting? Hisana can't remember.

"Yeah!" There are cupcakes on the floor, but she's past caring. "Why do they have to be like that?"

"Yeah!" Karin nods enthusiastically, and she's angry too. "They're dumb!"

"Stupid!"

"Idiots!" And they're laughing, hysterical, but it's fun too.

They laugh until their sides hurt, and the ache won't go away, and Hisana pretends that the tears from her eyes are from laughing too hard. Karin won't say anything.

"Fuck 'em," Karin mutters, daring for anyone in the vicinity to hear them. To say otherwise. "Fuck all of them."

* * *

><p>She has locked herself in her studio. She has sprawled herself on the comfortable couch, that she insisted on being comfortable and had taken Okaa-san to every furniture store until they had found one that was suitable for midday naps. Baldie had demanded it be black to go with the aesthetics of the studio.<p>

Whatever.

Her studio was a sanctuary. Four people had the keys to it and as such always had access to her, since she refused to have a cellphone. She could disappear forever here.

Or would if, her fucking balding manager didn't burst in like she had set his pants on fire again.

"Hiyori get your ass up. We've got to get you to hair and make up and wardrobe." Baldie says.

She doesn't move. "No."

Baldie raises an eyebrow. He can out diva her, and half of their fights are because of that. "Sorry, wasn't a request. It's telling you to get off your ass and do your job."

"I said no."

"Look kid," Yumichika starts, striding over to her, and forcing her to sit up and look at him. At least he took out the stupid feather. "I know Hiki-kaa-san's died. And you know I loved her too. But you've got a job to do, and Hiki-kaa-san didn't give up the world just to have you give up as well. So get up, get dressed and show the world you are Saraguki Hiyori, the daughter of the most amazing woman in the world, Hikifune."

She starts to cry, and god she's so tired of crying. She's spent an hour crying to Teeth, and three days before the funeral with Byakuya and Kenpachi having them hold her careful not to break her eve more.

And yeah Yumichika is a pain in the ass, but he's been with her forever. He's like the brother she's never wanted.

And she just wants this over. She wants everything done and over so she doesn't have to deal with shit anymore. Okaa-san isn't coming back.

She's not.

And she knows it. She knows but damn she just wants her back.

Yumichika kisses her forehead. "I know." He says softly. "But it's time to shine so fucking bright on earth that Hiki-kaa-san will see you up in heaven and you'll blind kami and all the other angels."

* * *

><p>Isshin snaps his fingers, lighting up at the thought. He fails to catch the juggling ball.<p>

"Pantomime." He grins, and jumps sideways to miss the free ball that is about to hit his face, but smashes through the window instead. "Cross dressing. Disney. She'll love it."

"She'll do no such thing." Kisuke smirks, unable to refrain from a slight mockery towards his esteemed volatile poster girl. After all, she didn't love her secret from being revealed – not that it was a scandal – between her and Byakuya. There was not the slightest bone of humour in her, especially in her brazen manner. The most she's come to smiling is a curled lip of rage.

"Ah, but this is one secret the public are unaware of." Isshin points at him, gleeful of this fact. "We'll get our contestants to cross-dress as Disney figures, and through its power, we shall create magic."

"Tell me more." Curious, Kisuke listens.

"A real smile from Hiyori."

* * *

><p>There are times when he hates The Agency and everything that comes with it.<p>

Hates the fact that he has never had a really normal life.

What kid goes to concerts backstage before he was five? Or sees giant Japanese icons in the kitchen drinking coffee and tea discussing future award show outfits with his mother?

But now, he realizes how protective The Agency is.

Hiyori is surrounded by Byakuya and Kenpachi when she makes her first public appearance after her mother's death.

Urahara is near the press, his fan covering his face while waiting to intervene when a question is said wrong. His father is near the back, watching with a sort of protective pride over everyone.

Oddly, weirdly, there's Shinji leaning against a wall looking nonchalant.

"Hello." Byakuya starts, "we are The Agency's, Kuchiki Byakuya."

"Sarugaki Hiyori."

"And Kenpachi."

"Thank you for coming." Byakuya says, the only one who sticks to the normal protocol. Byakuya bows, Kenpachi nods and Hiyori just stands there.

"We are here to announce the upcoming album by the three of us, due at the end of July tentatively titled _Star's Breathe_._"_ Byakuya says.

"The first single will be released in the next week, so find it on the radio and request it a lot." Kenpachi says stiffly.

He never did like doing publicity like this. In fact The Agency often avoids this type of publicity. That's for lesser agencies, announcing their songs and singles and activities like no one not know it just simply y hearing or seeing it.

"We thank you in advance for the love and support you will give us." Hiyori says kindly, for once, and in a way that shocks everyone, she flips her blonde hair and smiles.

There is an audible gasp, and cameras flash at this rare occasion.

* * *

><p>After the fucking press conference she's locked herself again her studio. For sure this time no one can get in, she pushed the damn leather sofa in front of the door.<p>

Not Isshin, or Baldie, or Scarf, or Urahara or Feather or even fucking Teeth can get it.

She just wants to be alone.

And kami, she knows. She knows that she needs to go to funeral. She has to see the grave.

And she will.

And she might even go home to the nice big condo exactly how Kaa-san wanted it, everything the way she dreamed it would be.

But home is really empty and big, and she can't do this now.

She will.

She will, because Kaa-san didn't raise a weak little girl, no she raised a warrior, a fighter, a god.

And yes she has crumbled, but she will be stronger and build herself up.

Her podium was shattered; she fell like all gods do eventually.

But see, she is different from them.

She will build herself up, stronger, higher and even bigger than before.

And propel herself into a territory where even gods fear to tread.

* * *

><p>Rukia is waiting in a coffee shop near the press conference. She is supposed to meet Onee-san and Shinji-kun , but they're late.<p>

She sips her Chappy mocha cappuccino, and people watches.

Everyone in the coffee shop is abuzz about seeing The Agency's top three in the flesh. It's not something that happens often, or at all.

The door rings, and the lanky orange haired rapper-Ichigo was it?-the one who was so incredibly rude to her enters the room, with the other rapper, the female one, who doesn't dress as femininely as she thought she would.

" It was weird." She overhears their conversation, because they stand close together almost like lovers but that doesn't feel like them at all. "Hiyori just smiled and everything went apeshit crazy."

"That's cause the midget never smiles. She even looked kinda pretty."

"Dude where are your eyes? Everyone knows that Sarugaki Hiyori is pretty. She's really, really pretty."

"Well Shinji noticed that's for sure. When everyone got back to The Agency he dragged her off to a corner."

They get their drink orders and move to a corner, so she can't listen in more to that conversation.

But no.

No, they're wrong.

Shinji-kun is only in love with Onee-san.

They've always been together. They have to end up together.

That's how the story goes.

There is no one else involved in their love story.

No one.

There's no one else right?

Rukia takes out her phone and calls her sister. There's no answer.

There's no one else in their lives right?

* * *

><p><em>One, two. One, two.<em>

Over and over and over again

Spin, drop, chest pop. Up smile, slide, kick and split.

It's past midnight, she's left the studio. It's just her alone in the living room, listing to the instrumental.

She's alone.

And it's scary.

She's not afraid, not usually no. Nee-san always laughs and says that she's just like Braveheart. But no, she's scared, because Nee-san isn't home.

Which means she should be with Shinji-kun right?

But why hasn't she called?

Just to, you know let her know.

It's only fair right?

Right?

* * *

><p>Hisana is beginning to suspect that this isn't ginger ale. Could it be alcohol? The room is spinning, and she can't think properly. Did the phone just ring, or is her mind playing tricks on her?<p>

"Karin." She tries to shape the words out, that name, that friend that she bonded over mutual heartache. "Karin." Karinkarinkarinkarinkarin.

Saying it so many times makes Karin sound ridiculous. Rinkarinkarinkarinkarinka. Misplacing the syllables makes her laugh more, and she's not sure why.

There's two of everybody. Everyone's tired, and the lights are dimmed.

She's laughed so hard she's fallen off the bar stool.

There's light once more. Bright and hurt-y. A silhouette becomes flesh. A stranger becomes a familiar.

Her eyes widen.

"Oh." She frowns, petulantly biting on her bottom lip. "It's you."

He looks annoyed, to say the least.

Annoyed and with two heads.

* * *

><p>"Daddy?" He turns, and sees Yachiru rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "It's three in the morning…why are you still up?"<p>

He is still getting used to being called that. It's been fifteen years since he became a father since the broad tossed him the blanket and ran.

"Couldn't sleep."

"'kay." Yachiru gets out a mug from the cupboard, it had in his gnarly script 'Yachiru' written on it, to match the mug he is currently nursing's childish printing claiming this mug to be 'The Bestest Daddy's Cup'. She bangs around the kitchen making hot chocolate and then sits beside him at the kitchen table.

"Is Hiyori-nee gonna be okay?"

He shrugs.

"I think…"Yachiru starts before stopping, she then sighs and starts again. "I can understand. If Daddy died, and you left me all alone I wouldn't wanna move. I would just stay here, waiting for you to come back…cause if Daddy wasn't here…then where am I?"

"What do you mean?"

He watches his daughter drink her "For me and Hiyori-nee, Daddy and Hiyori-nee's Okaa-san you're all we have. Our family right? Our only blood family cause we got Bya-nii, and Ichi-nii and Isshin-san and Masaki-chan, and Karin and Yuzu…but blood is different. Blood makes you feel like you're completely attached, that you belong."

"Without the blood…she's lost." He summarizes.

"Yeah and she will be until she's got some blood."

He blinks. _'Until she's got some…?'_ "You mean until she's got a kid she's gonna be like this? Fuck, we need to get the Midget some sex."

Yachiru snorts into the hot chocolate and the seriousness that filled the room is gone like a snap. "I don't think that's what she needs Daddy. Cause can you see Hiyori-nee as an Okaa-san? She'd kill the baby out of anger or accident."

He laughs too, at the mental image of Hiyori holding and taking care of a child.

"Maybe a rabbit." Yachiru says, "We can get her a rabbit. If she doesn't kill it we can let her have a kid."

Father and daughter laugh, again, loudly with no regard for the time or for the neighbors. The images of Hiyori with anything small and fluffy was not one they could see happening anytime soon.

"Yeah we'll get her a pet and it'll be all good."

"Tomorrow?" Yachiru says, getting up to clear the table, taking his mug as well.

"We'll go to the pet store and find the strongest, least likely to die in a week pet." He says, standing up.

"A crocodile?" His daughter says grinning, and skips after him up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"Oh," The Littlest Mouse pouts; blinking blearily at him. "It's <em>you.<em>"

He's not sure how to react to that. Fans usually scream at him, asking him to sign autographs, wanting him to be their boyfriend. But she—Hisana, he faintly recalls, if that is her name—seems to run in the opposite direction.

She certainly doesn't want his autograph. _That_ he recalls quite clearly.

"What do you want?" She asks him, yawning. She rubs her eyes and yawns again; more like a cat than a mouse. Her cheeks are flushed, and he can smell liquor on her breath. Just his luck.

"It's none of your concern." Byakuya replies, rolling his eyes. "Why are you still here?"

"You suck." She replies uselessly. She wrinkles her nose, as he has seen her do so many times, and perhaps mouse _is_ more suitable than calling her a cat.

"Flattery isn't your strong suit." He informs her, but it's too late for her, she's not listening. Instead, as he crouches to meet her eye to eye, she's crawled up to him.

Eye to eye indeed; but there are hardly any distance between them. At this particular point in time, he can count the flecks of darkness in her blue eyes. Her nose bumps against his, twitchy without whiskers, and she draws back, retreating soundlessly.

He watches her, curious to know what she does next. Without restraint, that sereneness that fails to hold her back, she's a strange mystery unravelling before him.

It's fascinating.

"You're pretty." She says crossly. He didn't expect _that._ To hear her say it was like it's a crime he should be on a magazine poster for the entire world to see. To be 'pretty'. There's a crinkle between her brows as she ponders this fact. "That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair." He tells her with gravity. "It's a concoction of good marketing and true talent—"

"You talk pretty too." She scowls, interrupting. Can he say nothing right with her?

"You're drunk." Byakuya tells her, lifting her up in his arms. There's a spare bedroom in the Agency – many, if he's to be more exact, for Kurosaki Isshin thinks of everything, apparently, for whatever situation. Bedrooms, bars, recording rooms and rooms with crazy golf for leisure.

"You're not." She mumbles, and if it's possible, her face is even darker. Mortified or angry, Byakuya cannot say which. Her arms are loose around his neck, and she says to his shoulder, with a bump of her nose, "I don't like this place."

"The Agency?" Then why be here at all, Byakuya nearly asks, before the answer is apparent.

He's seen the way she is around Hirako, standing too close to him, always looking to him for guidance, talking to no one but him, unless it's necessary. She's here because of _him_.

But Hirako seemed oblivious, or at least, is unaware, judging by his behaviour around Hiyori. He's careful around Hiyori. Almost painfully so, never too far away if he can help it.

_He knows_. Byakuya muses at the likelihood of the possibility. If Hiyori trusts Hirako that much…

What that could mean for the drowsy mouse in his arms might be inevitable heartbreak. Is that the reason she's in the state she's in?

"Yeah…" Hisana sighs; and looks at him with heavy eyes, lids lowering sleepily. "Shinji."

He'd be a fool to speculate when she's tipsy, and only a shred of the truth might be gleaned. But he can respect her wishes, and take her away from the Agency.

"Stupid head." She sulks, reaching up and tightening her hold on him, suddenly bites his neck. "'s nice."

He can feel her teeth long after she drops her head on his shoulder and begins to breathe evenly.

"Hisana?"

She is asleep.

His mouth presses into a thin line.

_Now_ what is he to do with her?

* * *

><p>Sunlight is not her friend. Sunlight is her enemy.<p>

And the alarm clock?

The alarm clock is her _nemesis._

Without remorse and with much flailing, she tries and locates the clock and knocks it to the floor. A sear of pain and a satisfying thud shows that her first deed in the morning succeeds.

"Mature." A voice she knows all to well—and despises—says from somewhere she does not care about, since it is not under the bed sheets, but away and above. "Very mature."

"Go 'way." She mumbles, curling up even further into a ball. Doesn't want to see him or the sunlight right now. If she can escape the morning light, she's alright. The loud noises will go away eventually and then he will fuck off and all will be well. She'll escape when she knows she won't roll off the bed and meet the floor with an hard and painful greeting and then crawl into the kitchen. "I'm dying."

"I can see that." Dryly, he says. She hates him even more for his scepticism.

"I _am._" She insists. She didn't drink ginger beer last night, did she? The first drink definitely was. But it wasn't strong enough for her to drown in her sorrows. The second and counting drinks were not.

"Oh, come on Karin!" Snapping, Toushirou grabs the protective layer of vampire shelter that deprives sunlight into het sore eyes and down, down, down the sheets go, slipping past her ankles and feet until it doesn't remain on the bed any more. He ignores her yelp of surprise. "Damn it, what happened?"

"You're shouting." Karin mutters, squeezing her eyes shut, and winces at the volume. Didn't anyone tell him that shouting was a fucking bad idea? She moves her hands to her ears, trying to block out the ringing. She can't think thanks to him, and there's nothing more that she wants than to fall back asleep on a bed that smells like him. "That's what happened."

She can't remember. Like hell she's telling him.

It's probably something to do with him anyway.

"Bullshit." He murmurs, and Karin shrinks even more.

Why is he punishing her? She doesn't get drunk a _lot_.

"Karin," Toushirou says after a heavy sigh, the syllables wrong and clumsy in his mouth like he's at his wit's end. He sounds exactly what she feels when she looks at him, so aware that he's completely oblivious. "I wish you wouldn't act like this."

He tosses the bed sheet back on her, and Karin squirms trying to unfold the damn thing, awkward without her coffee fix, and ending up sprawled over his bed and looking at him with blurry eyes and through fallen locks of hair.

"Sorry," Karin replies, even though she's not. She closes her eyes. "How'd I get here, anyway?"

"You vomited on my shoes." Toushirou replies tartly.

She bites her tongue at that, nearly laughing. It sounds like her at her most upset. She'd like to remember that.

"Oh."

"You're a bitch."

"Yeah, I know." She doesn't flinch at his words, just responds with a roll of the tongue. For the record, she is sorry about the shoes. She's not going to buy him a new pair. In hindsight, she'll find it fucking hilarious.

"Anyway, you passed out after that." He ruffles his hair, soft-looking and still uncombed. "Figured I might as well take you home with me."

"Like a true gentleman." Light-heartedly she replies, eyes fluttering open. It's not so bad. "Tell me you had your wicked way with me."

"Shut up."

"Fine." She props herself up with some struggle, and shakes her head, unsuccessful with blowing her hair out of her eyes. Why does she always think it's going to work when it never does? Old habits die hard. "I have clothes here from last time, right?"

"No. Yuzu took them with her."

"So I did." Karin nods. It's a pity that his clothes don't fit her. They're too big, but she might be able to wear a t-shirt of his anyway. Maybe some mismatched socks. "Can I?"

"Sure." He gives in, and sits on the bed beside her. Her elbows give out, and she's cushioned by the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Karin drawls out her answer as much as she can. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

* * *

><p>There are six missed calls on her phone.<p>

"Oh, shit." Hisana mumbles, pinching her nose and blinking as fast as she can. What happened last night? Where is she? "Shit."

Her body clock is all wrong. She should be awake by now.

She's wearing last night's clothes.

There's a knock on the door. One precise knock, before it opens.

She doesn't expect to see Kuchiki Byakuya staring at her, picture perfect and carved in marble. It's such an expressionless face, and yet disdain is marked so easily and leaves him so unblemished. If only the rest of the world were so lucky.

"What are you doing here?" Hisana asks without thinking.

"Being a Good Samaritan and letting you sleep in my house." He swiftly answers, and continues to speak as she suddenly looks around and realizes that he appears to be dressed in nothing but a dressing gown. It looks terrible. "Breakfast is served, and I thought you ought to know. However, we can skip that and show you the door if you like. After you have a shower."

"_Your house?"_ The room alone suggests it's a mansion! Everything is so spacey and huge…

"I am an Idol." He replies smugly.

It makes sense, she admits. "So, what am _I _doing here?"

He looks at her, and Hisana feels mortified from head to toe. Did something happen?

"We'll discuss the specifics after breakfast." He answers coolly and succinctly, and turning around immediately like she's nothing more than a speck of dust on his clothes, easily brushed away. From the eyes of a celebrity, an anonymous civilian like her, she kind of is.

"Alright! Alright. Just… let me make a phone call first." Grabbing her phone and leaping out of bed, Hisana raises her voice. She's kind of surprised he stopped, to be honest. "Can you give me five minutes?"

Seconds pass, and she wonders if she has to remind him that she no idea how to find the exit in a place like this. It's not Pac-man, even though she wishes it was. At least then it's marginally easier to handle.

He nods imperceptibly.

"Five minutes." He agrees and closes the door behind him.

_Thank you,_ she thinks, relieved.

Hitting the dial, Hisana leans on the bed and waits for Rukia to pick up.

"_Hello?"_

"Hi Rukia."

"_Nee-san, where are you? Are you with Shinji? Did it finally happen? Do you know how long I've waited for you two—"_

"Ah, no! Nothing like that happened!" Flustered, Hisana interrupts, waving her free hand to tell her sister to stop talking even though she knows she can't see it. "I'm not with Shinji, I just wanted to call you and tell you I'm safe and I'll be home soon."

"_Okay, Nee-chan. But you should tell him soon and make it official. Promise me."_

"I'll see you soon. Love you too." Hisana says, fixed smile making her face hurt before putting her phone back in her pocket. As much as she adored Rukia, there were times when she was a little overbearing. Besides, Shinji liked Hiyori.

That's right… she got upset and drank alcohol. Well, on the bright side – if there was a bright side – she'd resisted it for at least a year. And she didn't get rip-roaring drunk like before.

Running her hands through her hair, she makes do without a hairbrush, smoothing away the bed hair as much as she can.

True to his word, Kuchiki-san is waiting outside, his face carefully blank. She almost expects him to say that her five minutes aren't up, but instead he says, "Come with me."

And off they go to have breakfast. She sticks out terribly before white washed walls and polished steel cutlery, and meekly eats cereal while the Idol methodically slices up his scrambled egg.

"So," Hisana begins awkwardly, and decides to look at the wall behind him rather than _at_ him. "It's come to this. Could you tell me how I got here?"

"In short, I found you inebriated. You refused to sleep in a hotel or in The Agency, quite adamantly, I must add. Though," He smirks. "It seems that you don't remember what happens after."

"No." She stands up and follows his lead, walking out into the hall. She could never afford a place like this, so exquisite and rich. She feels a little bit like Fujioka Haruhi. This place reeks of gaudy richness. Rich bastard.

"Do you mind telling me why you decided to get drunk in The Agency?"

"That's personal, so no. And for your information The Agency has a built-in _bar_, I'm sure a lot of people drink beer or wine there_._" He looks like a wine person, Hisana thinks. She takes a breath and starts anew. "Thank you, by the way, for letting me stay here."

"I have one request." He begins, and Hisana simply looks at him.

"Let me guess." Of course he's not a Good Samaritan, since Good Samaritan's don't come with a price. But, oh, how obvious. Actually she might need a chair for this, although maybe her tiptoes will be enough. She knows what he wants.

Closing the distance between them, she tugs on his collar and bends his head towards her, clinging slightly to his clothes. Their teeth meet in a clash, noses bumping, mouth on mouth, and there it is: a kiss.

She lets go and falls back onto the heel of her feet. She smooths out the wrinkles of her shirt, preferring to not look at him at the moment.

"I was going to say that you should buy one of my CDs, but I suppose this is an alternative."

Oh _shit. _An alternative. He hadn't been suggesting _that_ at all. A CD. He was going to ask that she should buy a CD of his. How did he know that she didn't have an album of his?

How had she misread the situation that badly?

She'd thought that maybe—_what had she been thinking?_

_Shit._

* * *

><p>She leaves after that, not meeting his eyes and resorting to the mouse persona that has become her mask inside the building where everyone is decadent and shouting for a voice when writing a collaboration album; a wallflower waiting for its petals to fall, saying nothing.<p>

It's a shame, really. She was much more interesting like this. Just now.

Byakuya doesn't stay to watch her go, turning after the door shuts behind her.

That was different.

Not what he expected.

He rubs his mouth absent-mindedly, recalls the sensory memory of her biting his neck.

Hm.

It's a turn of events that he couldn't possibly have foreseen, but he's willing to see where they go. There are many unanswered questions, and Byakuya hasn't had his morning cigarette.

He could really use a smoke. Bask in the sun and feel relaxed. Think about lyrics and compositions of future tunes, in addition to finding the nearest notepad to write it down.

Ruminate a little bit more on the new predicament that's left the world crooked on its axis.

* * *

><p>The world is judging her and Hisana's grateful that Rukia isn't home to see her like this.<p>

_Kami-sama._

She thinks she might be hyperventilating. She must be hyperventilating. Her heart is pounding and tight in her chest; it hasn't stopped ever since she climbed onto the bus and never looked back. She didn't dare to look back.

She couldn't.

What kind of person just assumes that it's a _kiss_ that he wants? Obviously her, but it was the morning! She was disconcerted! Disorientated! Recovering from a hangover! And there he was, stupid and _there_ and she's mad and not thinking straight and—

And she's not breathing.

_Crap._

She can't breathe.

It's a miracle she's lasted this long.

Quickly she rushes to the cabinet and makes a glass of water.

Empty, it hits the table with a thud; Hisana's not feeling any better than she was early. If anything, her state of clarity is making her feel more hung over. Mad at herself. Irritated because she was so impulsive.

It was just a kiss.

He didn't kiss back or try anything. It was a chaste, one-sided kiss. On her part. Which, Hisana supposes, is something. Don't most pop stars live the sex, rock and roll path? They take drugs at every opportunity, so long as the public don't find out. And other scandalous stuff that Rukia tends to talk about and Hisana doesn't actually listen to… Idols live _those_ kinds of lives. Right?

That meant that Kuchiki-san had been almost courteous.

He hadn't taken advantage of the situation, and the thought of anything escalating makes Hisana blush. _As if that was going to happen!_

She is very, very happy it didn't, and will never happen.

_Could I even imagine—?_

The absurdity of it makes her laugh; slightly more relaxed than before. She can't even entertain the idea for a second.

Ridiculous.

_And what about Shinji?_ Hisana reflects, fingertips tapping on the glass. Focusing on the problem at hand, her chest tightens, uncomfortably so. _I'm in love with him._

Evidently, he didn't feel the same way.

If he did, if he ever had, then the moment's gone, and it's too late.

Shinji's too busy being captivated by Sarugaki, who Rukia idolizes, to even notice her. Doesn't he notice how out of her comfort zone she's been for the past few weeks so she can support him?

He hadn't even sought her out when she turned up yesterday, before she became drunk, or after. Instead, she'd wound up in _Kuchiki's _house, and Hisana would rather forget the whole event entirely.

He makes her so _angry_ sometimes.

Hisana huffs, and wishes she'd actually thrown her shoe at him the first time they'd met. Maybe that would have cut their friendship short, but apparently it works for the most volatile singer, since Shinji is starry-eyed in her presence. Maybe then Shinji would have noticed her like _that_.

But she had a boyfriend then, and Hisana hadn't even thought that Shinji as anything more than a friend, at that point. He made her laugh, roll her eyes at him and slowly she'd… she'd fallen for him.

Those are the best relationships though. The friendship foundation progressing to the levelling-up lovers.

"I think I need a reality check." Hisana sighs, needing her thoughts to be voice aloud. Raking her hands through her hair, elbows landing on the table, she tries again. "I hate being—second place. I don't _want_ to be second place anymore."

All this time, she'd been looking for a sign. Something, _anything_, for a hint that Shinji might feel something more… and she'd been too cowardly to act. Too many chances wasted.

"Maybe there's nothing to look forward to." She mumbles, feeling light-headed enough to just keel over and spend a few more moments slumped over the dinner table. She'd already tried the alcohol route, and she wasn't eager to try that again. "Dead end, you know?"

Souen Hisana, spinster.

_Please,_ Hisana thinks bitterly, perishing the idea instantly, _I'm a catch. Rukia tells me I am, anyway. Kensei wasn't complaining either, now that I think about it._

Well, then. That left her with two options.

Option A – she could wait around some more, be more assertive and use her Fight Club wiles to lure Shinji into her welcoming arms.

Option B – cut him out of her life. Move on. Get out of this unrequited love pattern that's been over a year in the making. He doesn't need her, and she sure as hell will not be moping for the rest of her life because of Shinji chasing after his dreams. She has dreams too; and most of them don't include The Agency at all.

She's tired of that bullshit.

There are other ways to shine, and Hisana, for one, does not need cameras and flashing lights, for everyone to know her name to be _somebody._

"Right then! Operation: getting Shinji out of my system – is about to commence!" Hisana says determinedly; standing up in light of her declaration.

Her phone goes off.

It's Riruka.

"Crap! I can't be late for work!" Hisana shrieks, nearly tripping over herself as she scrambles out of her chair to the door and answer her phone. "Hey, Riruka! Hey! I'm okay, that's just—the floor. I'll tell you later. Funny story really…"

It really _isn't _her day.

* * *

><p>It's not rude, at least that's what she tells herself as she waits in line at the coffee shop for her coffee, but she can't help but over hear that obnoxious orange haired rapper boy who performed at Shinji-kun's concert conversation.<p>

He's just speaking so loudly to this white haired boy who she thinks she's seen on TV, something about a piano prodigy but she's not sure.

And really, why can't anyone have normal hair colours around her? She knows they're Idols, or at least wannabes and yes, they are semi-famous but why do they have such bright colours.  
>Even Shinji-kun dyes his hair blonde.<p>

And Shinji will totally become a star, world famous.

But the looks he gets when he walks with Onee-chan, maybe he ignores them but Onee-chan shrinks with every disapproving glare.

But back to the conversation about some girl named Karin and the girl who stalks Shinji-kun.

"She won't tell me what happened." The white haired boy, maybe eighteen says annoyed. "Karin won't answer her phone and Yuzu and Yachiru just say she's busy doing her hair."

"Bullshit." The rapper snorts. He's her age. "Karin hasn't given two shits about her hair ever."

"Exactly and I just want to know why she and Hirako's stalker were getting shitfaced at The Agency."

"Hirako's stalker?"

"The girl with the eyes…"the white haired boy says, failing to describe the girl. "You know…the one's whose always with him."

"The midget who looks pisses off Byakuya?" Rapper says, as the line moves up.

She realizes then they are talking about Onee-chan.

And say what you want about her, you do not mess with Onee-chan.

"Her name is Souen Hisana." She says icily, pushing in front of them to the barista. "My sister and Shinji-kun's girlfriend."

If either responds, she doesn't hear it.

* * *

><p>Generally, a week passes for a mourning period to be over. This is Hisana's general rule of thumb, according to Rukia.<p>

There are several clues to this: the first, most noticeable of all, is a daily rewatching of Fight Club before she goes to be bed until Hisana is ready to proceed to whatever comes next. It's not her favourite movie for nothing. The second clue, Hisana starts muttering to herself, before abruptly stopping and realizing what she's doing, and returns to silence; often leaving Rukia confused because it made no sense whatsoever.

And finally, baked apple pie in the morning, with an earnest smile on her face.

"What's going on?" Rukia asks, still in her pyjamas, and warily approaching the table. It's true that it's her favourite desert in the world, however, they often come at a cost. "Hisana?"

"Hm?" Hisana blinks, not understanding. "Nothing."

So Rukia thought. Very hard.

"It's apple pie, I thought—"

"I do!" Rukia cuts in, because an apple a day keeps the doctor away; so apple pie is almost the descent of divinity. "It's just," Rukia sighs, wondering how to say it. "You're not telling me something."

Hisana's face goes bright red.

"Aha! I knew it had something to do with Shinji-kun!" Rukia points at her blushing sister, and then steps back. "But—"

But the mourning process only happened when _bad_ things happened.

But that didn't make sense.

Why would she—

"You guys are in love with each other." Rukia says slowly. That was the pure and simple truth.

No couple is perfect, but these two were close to perfection as could be. Yes, Hisana wasn't as enthusiastic as Shinji and Rukia about the music industry, or being Somebody Famous. But she was supportive. So she tuned out when the contestants were voted off, and tended not to listen when Rukia told her about the latest gossip. She's not a saint. But they could work around this.

They were meant to be.

Weren't they?

"Rukia, I'm going to say this only once. Okay?" She's trying to stay calm, Rukia realizes from the back of her mind, but she's shaking. They were a destined couple. This can't be what she's hearing. "I need some space."

"_What?"_

"Twice then." Hisana sighs, holding herself as tall as she can be without aid of tiptoes. "Butt out."

"But—"

"No. You can't fix this." Firmly she says, closing her eyes for a second. They open, meeting hers. "I don't want you to."

Rukia huffs.

"Fine." If she says anything else, she'll sound childish.

It is Hisana's life to live, and her decision who she wants to date. But still, Rukia is upset.

They would have been such a perfect couple!

"Have some pie." Hisana suggests, trying to ignore the atmosphere just generated within her turbulent mindset.

Even so, Rukia recognises defeat when she sees it. Her sister is just as stubborn as she is, really.

The apple pie is delicious.

* * *

><p>He's at the club, not his usual club, where it's too smoky to see your drink, but a karaoke club.<p>

With his sisters.

And his parents.

And Urahara and Yourichi for really no good reason.

Oh wait, it's called family bonding.

He is quite glad that they've got a private room, where he can drink his beer and watch in amusement.

He is quite glad that his mother stuck to couture and stage design rather than peruse a singing career, as there is no way in any seven hell she can sing.

Thank god they take after Isshin.

And neither can Urahara for that point.

But it doesn't really matter.

He understands why they are doing this. In the aftermath of Hiyori, Isshin has wanted closeness with them. And Urahara and Yourichi have always been a part of the family.

That's why he laughs when Masaki takes an exaggerated bow, after a loud finishing note on one of the ballads by some Canadian singer, it's the ship sinking song.

"Wow Mom. You're amazing." Yuzu says seriously, never the one to wince away from sour notes, but embrace them and find some sort of beauty and rhythm and tune somewhere in the singing.

"Yeah, Dad should totally sign you." Karin says smirking.

Masaki throws back her head and laughs, her pretty laugh that sounds like silver bells.

He watches Isshin look like the world spins just because Masaki laughs.

"We all know that Ichigo is getting signed." Masaki smiles.

"I think that's cheating." Karin says.

"Now, now, Masaki-chan," Urahara says smirking in a way that he is not thrilled about at all. "Spoilers."

Oh god.

"It's not rigged, right?"

Isshin looks at him, mildly upset. "Of course not. Whether you win or not is a big factor."

"Yeah bro," Karin says grinning. "Music is serious business."

He pushes her off the couch.

The minute she and Yuzu turn eighteen, they all know they and Yachiru will be recording a demo and become a huge indie band, which destroys the whole concept of indie, but still.

It's family, he supposes.

* * *

><p>"Rukia took it badly, I take it." Riruka drawls, leering back at the back of a customer's head. The sight makes Hisana smile, it's very petty. Even if it <em>is<em> a hated customer that will not go away.

"Yeah." Hisana exhales, glad she has someone to talk to about this. "Nearly blew a gasket."

"Well isn't that something." The hated customer must be psychic, because like a hawk, his head turns to face her, with a matching glare.

"Stop it, Riruka." Hisana says lazily, gently tapping her café partner with an upturned grin. A feud was fine as long as it didn't come to damaged property. "Go serve another customer."

"We need a hot boy for that." There's a fiendish expression on Riruka's face, and Hisana doesn't want to imagine what else her friend might be thinking.

"Then make do." Hisana rolls her eyes.

The door of their café opens, ringing its familiar chime. Hisana looks back, glancing to see if there's a waitress to spare. Then she glances at the customers.

"No way…" Whispering under her breath, she quickly turns away, ignoring Riruka's puzzled concern, mouth offset in a compressed line.

Too late.

She'd been seen.

* * *

><p>"Hisana!" Karin calls, surprised but happy at this meeting. "Hey!"<p>

"One second, Karin." Hisana the waitress replies, before returning to a hushed conversation. She's not eavesdropping, but Karin does catch an _ugh, fine, go_ from the other waitress. "Okay, I'm on a break. You still like ginger ale, right?"

Karin beams. "Right."

"Two ginger ales coming right up." The magenta haired waitress says, bored.

"Actual ginger ales this time." Hisana says; and Karin can't help but grin.

"My bad." It's not like it was a euphemism or a codeword. The bartender had felt sorry for her. For both of them. "Still, you're okay?"

"Getting there, thank you." Hisana says ruefully; and Karin notices that there's something different about her. The lines of her face seems harder somehow, there's something a little bittersweet in the way she sits. "How about you?"

Karin grimaces. "It's getting harder to avoid him."

Since when did she talk about her love life so openly? Most of the time she preferred not to think about it. Except then she missed him. Even then she missed him.

"Ah." Hisana nods, like she's had plenty of experiences in avoidance issues. "That tends to happen. Sooner or later, you'll have to face it head on."

"Not yet." Stubborn, Karin insists, pushing the soles of her feet to the ground. "I won't."

"Alright." Hisana says softly. The lack of pushing is surprising, almost like reverse psychology that makes Karin _want_ to talk about it. They were in the same boat, after all, weren't they? "Is that why you're here?"

"Yep." Kind of. Avoiding someone is tiresome, since it meant that extra effort had to be taken to avoid That Person. "I ended up here. Believe me, I didn't know you worked here, or—"

"Or…?" Hisana teases gently, with upturned lips. "I'm not mad. You're free to stay here as long as you like, provided that it's good business. But, not _too_ much, you know?"

She's sly. Karin likes that, laughing unexpectedly.

"You have yourself a deal."

* * *

><p>Early in the morning, Ichigo is perched with Tatsuki in an overhang, watching Karin enter a room to avoid Toushirou, and then Toushirou following Karin into the room, Karin leaving the room and it would repeat.<p>

"It's cute." Tatsuki comments dryly. "All first love and such."

He clicks his teeth.

"Completely cute. " He agrees. "If Karin was actually talking to him."

"They're not talking?" Tatsuki asks surprised. "Why not?"

"Karin got shit faced and now she's embarrassed."

"Well when she drinks, she does go hard." Tatsuki points out. "It's nothing new."

"Apparently something happened."

"Something scandalous?" Tatsuki says, curiously. This is Karin who would easily wear someone's guts for garters, but could and would never spit out that she's head over heels for the white haired genius piano man, and has been since she was four.

"Who knows?" Ichigo shrugs.

"It's great for you to jump on the over protective boyfriend wagon."

"He knows." Ichigo says, watching his youngest sister run around The Agency subtlty trying to avoid him. "That she is the best damn thing in the world and if he breaks her, I won't have to do anything."

"Isshin will kick his ass?"

"Nah. Shirou will do it himself."

* * *

><p>"Shinji." Karin finds him one afternoon, cupcake basket nowhere in hand. "How come you didn't say that Hisana had a job?"<p>

"She has a lot of jobs," Shinji replies absent-mindedly, hands in his pockets, fiddling. He lost count after a few. "Why?"

"Found out where she works, is all." Karin informs him, folding her arms across her chest and watching him closely. "Says she's been working a lot this past week."

"She's a hard worker." Shinji grins with pride. "When she puts her mind to it, she's amazing. There's a reason why she's popular with the customers."

"Right. She seems different there."

"That's 'cause it's a place where she can reach her 'zone'." She was much more comfortable working in the café, or cleaning hotels, or whatever her job might be at the moment, than she ever was in The Agency. It was common knowledge that Hisana wasn't as interested in music as Rukia was, nobody was that blind. But it still shocked him—or rather—saddened him that she was never comfortable in this building as much as he was.

This place was almost a second home; he'd been here for a month, hasn't he?

He'd been spending so much time in this building that he'd ignored Hisana.

He hadn't noticed that until now.

Was she mad at him for prioritizing his music career over their friendship?

Although wouldn't Rukia understand, and explain it to her?

… that sounded like a shitty thing to do.

"Oi, Shinji. Still here?" Karin deadpans, smirking as he jerked back into focus.

"Yeah," Shinji beams, turning his frown upside down. His hands slide out of his pockets and settle on his skinny hips. "Gotta make music, gotta break hearts."

"Whatever." Returning to her disinterested stupor, she looks around and picks up a googly eyed rock – polka dot red this time – Hyourinmaru, right? "I just wanted to know how Hisana was doing." She throws the stone in the air and catches it with her other hand.

"Did you know I can juggle?" Shinji gives her his best tombstone smile, and Karin scoffs. Hiyori does too, kicking the door wide open.

"Juggling doesn't impress girls like us. Try harder." Hiyori spits, regaining her firecracker spirit. "Get out, Karin." There's no malice in her voice, but she still treats the younger girl like a fly she can easily step on. In the future they'll be competing for the rank of Idol – which Ichigo is competing for this year.

"Later." Karin lifts the back of her hand toward them to signal her goodbye, and shuts the door behind her. Her similarities to Ichigo are kind of scary, truth be told, since they seem to communicate through silent glances and eyebrow movement.

"So," Hiyori slants her eyes towards him, allowing a small amount of small talk that she doesn't give a damn about. "Freeze." Marching loudly to the door, she forces the door open, and yells: "Oi Karin! Your boyfriend's looking for you!"

If there's a reply, it's far too mumbled to be heard.

"Fucking idiots," Hiyori scowls, slamming the door like she normally does. Then claps her hands, ordering him about. "Stop slacking and get to work!"

"Yes, ma'am." He grins once more, especially after she slips off her shoes; prepared to throttle him, just in case.

It's a relief to see.

She is curled up in an arm chair with a large mug of white hot chocolate staring at the outside world of this small, small coffee shop.

She should be practising, getting ready to debut, but truthfully Nee-san and Shinji's…break up has hurt her more than it should.

See, she _understands_ that Nee-san and Shinji aren't together, yet. And she _understands_ that Nee-san wants her space from Shinji (and her but she's not going to dwell on that yet).

It just doesn't make sense.

Because if Nee-san is quiet and reserved, Shinji is loud and free. He brings out her bravery, and her personality while she dials him back just a tad bit, just enough so he doesn't get swept away and buy tickets to London again.

They balance each other out, and isn't balance the most important thing in a relationship?

And they look so different, Shinji's blonde, blonde hair and Nee-san's traditional Japanese looks.

So Nee-san needs to stop being stupid and just get over whatever problem she and Shinji are having and be together.

Because Nee-san is being selfish.

She says she'll be Shinji's lucky charm and goes to The Agency to be with him the entire time and then says she doesn't want to be with him.

Why?

What did Shinji do?

* * *

><p>He's lounging around on a leather couch – away from Hiyori – when it hits him.<p>

He's been a shit friend.

Shinji's not completely heartless, and he does feel bad about it.

Except he's been preoccupied, so everything else became secondary.

Lately, the only thing that's been on his mind is Hiyori.

He tried to be around her every second on the day of the contest and Lisa was voted out. He remembers Hiyori commenting that it was a miracle that she even latest this long. Guess the violinist didn't have what it takes, not for this medium.

A week ago, she seemed so fragile.

Even now, she's fragile.

He's afraid to touch her because he's acutely aware that she might break any second.

That used to be her appeal, how delicate she appeared, before destroying that image with vulgarities and sharp retorts that were as sharp as stabbing a pencil to the eye and not stopping until it had reached the other side, and she could draw a soul with that blood. Ever so popular because of her volatile disposition. Breaking from a first glance sweetheart into a vicious monster of the very definition of sin.

Now all he sees is her vulnerability, scratched raw into the surface, welts cut into the skin by the taste of loss.

So, why, _why_ does seeing Hiyori lose her temper and scowl that familiar scowl of hers make him feel so happy?

* * *

><p>Word spreads, reaching even Byakuya's ears. Mostly because of Renji and his inability to shut up. Hisana works in a café, which The Monkeys Of Evil Triangles scouted it out and reported positive findings. They did excellent ginger ale, according to the Kurosaki siblings.<p>

However, he won't say he's not intrigued by the possibility of visiting.

He has some business to attend to, pertaining to a certain Souen Hisana.

* * *

><p>A limousine awaits her.<p>

Honestly, Hisana could die of embarrassment.

The last thing she expects when her shift ends is to see _Kuchiki Byakuya _there, hipster sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose because it's apparently in fashion. She didn't know it was him until the window went down, and by then, Hisana was considering her option of running away as fast as possible.

Although she's half-tempted to re-enter The Agency in order to shout at Karin, or whenever she next drops by. Low key attention! Karin had promised. She kept that promise, her foot!

Nobody wants a _celebrity_ to endorse a café!

"Get in." Kuchiki says, and Hisana simmers in rage.

"Fine." Hisana nods, adding, "But make it quick."

He's unchanged as ever: a marble sculpture that doesn't react at all as she climbs into the vehicle. It even _smells_ rich, or is he wearing cologne? Whichever it is, it reeks of money.

"What do you want?" She asks, and the car begins to move.

"I have a proposition to make." He pauses, gazing at her enquiringly. "If you're willing to listen."

_I'm not going to get out of this limo otherwise, am I?_ Hisana realizes bitterly, and restrains herself a little to hide her resentment. _Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to hear him out._ "I'm listening." She glances out the window for a few seconds, before returning her gaze back to him.

There's a long silence.

"I would like to continue where we left off. As I recall, you kissed me."

"That was an accident!" Blushing, Hisana squeaks. Her ear tips are burning. Won't they fall off? In this car, they probably will, and _then_ she'll probably have to sell an arm and a leg so that she can raise enough money as compensation.

"An accident." Blankly, he repeats, eyebrow raised. "How exactly—"

"_It was a misunderstanding._" Hisana hisses, face brightly burning. It's not just her ears now, it's her entire face, and it's spreading to the base of her neck. "I thought you meant something else entirely."

"Then, yes. Today is a different story." And to her horror, he loosens his tie.

Is he trying to _seduce_ her in this car?

Her brain wants to implode at the thought. Sex is for beds! Beds! Maybe couches, if they were too far gone. But beds!

"No! _Kami-sama, _this is a definite no. And definitely, definitely," Hisana's hands wave about fruitlessly in the car, as she tries to create as much distance between them as possible, in a criss-cross manner. "Not in a place like this."

He blinks. "Why?"

"Why as in: why not you? Or why as in: why not in this car?" She's getting close to hyperventilation. This doesn't happen to normal, unimportant people who don't want the spotlight. Except when it happens to late night unlucky cab drivers. That had been _one_ time.

"The first one. We can discuss the latter later." Smoothly, he replies, completely unfazed by this intimate conversation. Later? _Later?_ "Why not me? After all, you did kiss me."

"Yes but—" That had been an accident, why does she have to keep repeating that? She needs a new train of thought, he can't keep distracting her like that. Getting flustered doesn't help anyone. Hisana takes a deep breath. "Well, for starters, we're not in love."

He looks offended by her first argument. That's probably the first honest emotion she's seen from him, albeit one she doesn't like at all.

"What does love have to do with it?"

"Everything." Hisana states, staring him down. He's not offended, then, she surmises. He's confused. "Love has _everything_ to do with it."

"Then are you in love with me?" He asks her.

"No!" That's the last thing that's furthest from the truth. How could he even say that?

"By your own admission: you kissed me. Why then, should I not assume that it means you're not in love with me, according to that logic?"

"Because it's not true." Hisana retorts angry. How dare he use it again her! All those suppressed memories! She doesn't want to relieve the experience. Wearily, she moans. "I don't know why I did it."

"Generally, people would call it attraction." Byakuya informs her, straight-faced. "After all, you did—"

"Yes, I know what I did." Interrupting him, she will not hear it a fourth time. Three is quite enough. He doesn't need to treat her like her memory is a goldfish. She's been regretting her actions ever since. "But I'm not attracted to you."

"It's happens all the time." Byakuya continues with his spiel, which she will aptly deny. "It's a normal human condition. Why not take advantage of it?"

She takes a moment to consider this. What he's saying, what he's proposing.

"Are you attracted to me?" Forgive her for her scepticism, but isn't against the rules that celebrities to date the common folk? "Is that what you're saying?"

"You are not unattractive." He concedes, and Hisana's jaw drops open. Was she asking for a backhanded compliment? To be damned by faint praise? "Is that hard to believe?"

She wants to slap him.

This is not how you chat someone up.

"I'm going to pretend that didn't just happen." Barely maintaining her sanity, fraying at the edges as he speaks, Hisana decides to continue with her second involvement. "Being involved with someone like you would mean that everyone else would find out about it. I like my life concealed from the public, thank you."

So maybe she doesn't read the magazines about him, but she's heard enough from those that do. All those tiny details! Rukia could probably tell her what his five favourite colours were, if they weren't colourless shades of white. Or even his favourite vegetables. Too much unnecessary information leaked out into the public.

"That can easily be arranged. The Agency has a mutually beneficial relationship with the paparazzi, and Urahara would never want to intrude on personal lives." A shadow passes over his face, but only later does Hisana realize this. At the moment, she's still not sure what to think.

"But I don't like you." It's a valid argument, as weak as it sounds to her ears. At least in comparison to the other two. It's still important to her.

"People have fucked for less." Bluntly, he says, and Hisana involuntary blushes. Her knuckles tighten. This conversation is making her uncomfortable, not to mention hearing him swear. That role usually was given to Sarugaki and Zaraki, and she strayed from them as much as possible. Shinji swore all the time, honestly she didn't mind it. It was just strange to hear, coming from this person. "One night stands. Hate sex. People work around it."

"Maybe, I prefer it on my terms." She'd like a relationship that's positive, and one that she's emotionally involved with – rather that this… arrangement. "I don't think I'd want to have a no-string attached relationship."

"Have you ever tried it?" He asks curiously, and Hisana wishes that he'd heard the unspoken _with you_ at the end of her sentence. Instead, she shakes her head. "Then how do you know?"

"Well I… I think that it should be more romantic than this." Her embarrassment won't go away, but at least it's not as prominent as it used to be.

"Very well." He nods, and then orders the driver to park somewhere nearby. "However, if you do decide to change your mind, then consider this possibility. You can contact me here."

It's a laminated card.

Her only option is to throw in the bin if she wants to get rid of it.

"Okay." She says automatically, accepting the card and putting it in her pocket. "Thank you."

"Think about it."

"I will." Hisana says absent-mindedly, brain hurting at this point. It's too strange, all of it, today, yesterday, this situation, it's too strange for her to handle. Watching Fight Club will make it better.

The breeze on her face is refreshing, and Hisana is relieved to recognize the park she's standing in. Not too far from home then. She stands there for a few minutes, not bothering to watch the car leave after she shuts the door behind her. Instead she finds a park bench and sits down, thoughts devoid of everything except the slow even breaths trying to calm down a frenzied heartbeat.

This turn of events was something she hadn't been expecting in any shape or form.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

_Sorry it's late, I kind of got distracted by pretty animes like FMA: Brotherhood and other amazing shows. Hopefully the next update won't take so long xD. I hope the wait was worth it. Until next time!_

Suki: I don't apologize for the latest because of the sheer length this chapter is. However, I come baring bribes, leave us a lovely review (read tell us what you think, what you dislike and what you like) or make us a fan art of some sort for this lovely thing and we will write a drabble/oneshot in this lovely world with a Bleach character of your choice/prompt/pairing. Keep in mind we do have an Idol-esque canon we have to keep, but give us some love.

Especially since the last of us has finally moved out on our own and we are the poor starving artists who need reviews to live

Ta!


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